Fields of Joy
by redcristal
Summary: 3rd in Sandcastles and Stars series. JOYCE CENTRIC.While Buffy is away, in LA for summer break, Joyce's life takes some interesting twists and turns. Answer to Challenge-3245, and a bit of "wake up married" cliché thrown in the mix.
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Fields of joy**

 **(** 3rd Story in **Sandcastles and stars** series **)**

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing! **BtVS** belongs to **Joss Whedon.** Book series **Broken Sky** belong to **Chris** **Wooding**. **Harry Potter** setting characters etc belong to **J. K. Rowling**.

 **Paul Langford** and **Catherine Langford** belong to **Brad Wright** and **Jonathan Glassner**.

 **Summary** : While Buffy is away, in LA for summer break, Joyce's life takes some interesting twists and turns. Answer to Challenge-3245, and a bit of "wake up married" cliché thrown in the mix.

About the **Sandcastles and stars** series **: Fields of joy,** is a story from (mostly) Joyce's POV, but most characters from **White leaf fall** Drusilla centric fic, and **Buffy-Champion of Ankhseram** are present. Which means elements from the crossed fandoms from those stories are present here as well, disclaimers' for those will pop up in the chapters down the line.

 **WARNINGS** : Time-lines are foggy IGNORE the timelines. I promise I'll post (eventually) full timelines in how time/year wise all of it fits/and how canon time-lines were changed AFTER most of the **Sandcastles and stars** series are running smoothly. OK! Thanks for your patience!

 **Paring** : Joyce Summers/Xenophilius "Xeno" Lovegood (main paring), hints of Joyce/Hank, Joyce/Other

* * *

Chapter 1: Forgotten past

January 1979 San Francisco

A rough sigh escaped Joyce Doe's throat as she plopped herself down on the bench at the underground train station, the place entirely devoid of life and seeming almost creepily abandoned.

But that didn't bother her at all; she felt abandoned … nobody came forward who'd known her, for two years – to this day- despite the police efforts, and because the doctors estimated her age to be around the late teens or early twenties.

Joyce was pretty sure that they were wrong and she was older. But she had nothing to base that feeling, so she let them make that assumption. After all she had no recollection before waking up in that hospital bed.

The doctors told her that she was in a coma for two months and that she was stable now, then the policemen and detectives came to see her and asked her questions; she had no idea where or even when she was. Or what a president even IS. The rehabilitation was difficult, mostly because most people treated her like she was retarded, or didn't understand what they were saying. It took a doctor, a surgeon really, to blow up at them that she was not to be treated that way. That she had total control of her physical and mental capabilities, she just lost all her memories.

She could read, she could talk, she could write; she shown that she understood and remembered what she read, faster than any man or woman her age. The doctor speculated that this was so, because she already knew it all, and now she was just remembering.

She was taken in by the family that found her, the family that consisted of the doctor that shouted at everyone; she was glad about that, she had become fond of Arlene and Lolly, her two new sisters.

They said she can call them mother and father.

Joyce really didn't have any objections to that. She made a life for herself here; in fact when she recovered from her injuries, the police said that her injuries consisted of someone who was in a train wreck the thing is, she was found in an alley, but that was what they said.

It was a mystery... that was unlikely to be solved any time soon.

But things were looking up; she went to evening high school courses, was on the yearbook staff, wore her Gidget haircut with pride, and breezed through college courses for Art and History. She meet a young man that studied Architecture; they were going out today, Hank Summers and her.

She was looking forward to spending time with the green eyed, blond man. Even if she dreamed of a dark eyed, brown haired bear of a men with a gentle voice, of a teenage boy with black hair in ponytail, of a younger blond boy and a red haired girl, twins …of a happy family she was part of.

As a mother and wife.

January 19, 1981 Los Angeles

Joyce was married for a year and a half and already cursing her husband as she was giving birth. But still the doctors and nurses made comments that for a young mother with her firstborn, she apparently knew what to do immediately.

Never mind that she had flashbacks of giving birth before, twice. But that couldn't be right, could it?

But when the nurse put a small pink wrapped bundle in her hands, she forgot all about the strange thoughts and pictures that had risen during birth. She looked at her little baby girl in her arms. She had a small button like nose and large baby blue eyes that would change color later in the baby's life. She wondered what color they would end up being in the end.

She briefly saw one pair of black eyes, and then green and electric blue … but just as she tried to grasp the thought, it slipped away, like grains of sand at the beach.

Sighing, she smiled a tired smile to Hank, and showed him the small bundle. "Here she is," she murmured, gently depositing their daughter in Hank's hold.

"Our little Buffy Anne."

A grey haired head popped into the room, followed by the rest of the family from both sides of said families, Hank's and hers.

"You two made a cute kid," said Barbara, Joyce's foster mother. Lolly, who had given birth a month before Joyce, to a little girl she and her husband called Celia, nodded. Arlene, who came all the way from Illinois, reached her hand so that little Buffy wrapped her little pinky finger around her offered finger.

"She is healthy?" asked Arlene, the newly made parental unit.

Hank smiled and nodded at his sister in law. "Yes, Arlene, she is perfectly healthy."

"Will she be blonde?"

"Well, Joyce is a darker blonde than Hank, so barring prominent number of black haired family members in the past, she might as well have some shade of blonde hair," Catherine spoke up, some distant relation of Hank's. Joyce remembered her well; she had many interesting discussions with Miss. Langford, since she was the daughter Professor Paul Langford, who was an archaeologist that led a team to dig for artifacts near the Great Pyramids in Giza, Egypt in 1928, when Catherine herself was a ten year old girl accompanying her father.

 **January 1996 Los Angeles**

Joyce was at home, washing dishes, thinking about her day at the National Museum in LA, where she oversaw the exhibition of art, pictures mostly.

Hank was out; his company was working on a project, but her marriage was cooling down, and most of Hank's family, with the exception of Catherine Langford, was pulling away from her.

Catharine said that they 'smelled a casualty' of marriage and they didn't want to interfere, so they'll wait until things calmed down. Then she warned her that they'll probably ignore her, not their daughter, just Joyce, if she got divorced from Hank.

She was just glad that if she divorced Hank, she'll get custody of their child.

Buffy had been acting strange ever since her fifteenth birthday. She was being skittish, and her grades dropped.

Joyce was beginning to worry for her youngest daughter … wait a moment, Joyce's hands stilled while she was washing a frying pan.

Where did that came from?

Buffy was her only daughter!

The unbidden image of a fourteen year old, green eyed girl with fiery red hair braided in a long braid, laying in Joyce's lap, while she ran her hand over the drowsy teen, raised in her mind's eye.

 **February 1996 Sunnydale**

Joyce Summers, recently divorced, stood with the real estate agent, Mr. Smith, a lively man of Mexican descent, on a wide concrete sidewalk before a house at Revello Drive in the suburban town. The sidewalk led from the curb, through the middle of the front yard, past the palms and other trees that were native to California, and through the gap in a low hedge that decorated the house porch. There was a short flight of stairs that led up to the front door, and on either side of the front door were picture windows flanked by tall, narrower windows.

The porch, spanning the width of the house, was overhung by part of the residence's roof, which was supported by four pillars, the two beside the steps having brick pedestals.

Joyce liked the sight of that porch; she could put settee and a club table there, or perhaps also a rocking chair where she and Buffy could relax when night would fall. She could furbish the setae with plush pillows and …

"As you can see, Mrs. Summers, the house is a two story American Craftsman style home, with a full basement. The house itself is facing the driveway to the right, which goes alongside the house, with a detachment to the car garage."

Joyce nodded; that was perfect for her car, and perhaps if Buffy will get her driver's license, well the garage looked big enough to fit two cars anyway. But Mr. Smith was already fishing for (the) keys, while talking about the house.

"The backyard stretches back to the fence; at the moment it's bare, so you'll be able to plant your own plants if you chose. The house contains a ground floor, upper floor, attic, and full basement. Shall we look them over, Mrs. Summers?"

"Yes please, lead the way, Mr. Smith," Joyce said; then she thought, basement huh, that is unusual, for Southern California homes rarely had basements of any type, much less spacious basements.

Mr. Smith unlocked the front door, and they stepped into the foyer that Joyce could see led into a hallway, where she could see a …

"There is fully furbished dining room that is facing away from the street, and beyond the dining room the kitchen with all the appliances already in place, now see," Mr. Smith was saying, after he demonstrated that the kitchen appliances were indeed in working order.

"The kitchen has access to both the sitting room to its right and to the rear porch. A short flight of steps leads from the back porch into the back yard. A sitting room itself is located at the end of the hallway."

"Hmm, the living room is not furnished?"

"No, the previous owners emptied all but the kitchen and the two bathrooms upstairs and washing facilities in the basement. Shall we see the upper floor?"

"Yes, please," Joyce said, while she mentally made a list of the furniture that she'll move from her previous residence she shared with Hank in the past.

They returned back to the foyer, where a staircase led from the foyer to the upper floor.

"The upper floor contains a master bedroom that is facing the rear of the house, two smaller rooms, one of those has a small bathroom attached, with one window facing the front yard through the oak three," Mr. Smith was saying. Joyce smiled that smaller bathroom and a room was perfect for her daughter. "And there is the master bathroom, with a bath and shower."

The spare room could be my work room or storage room in a pinch, Joyce thought.


	2. Chapter 2

THERE WAS AN ERROR IN POSTING THIS IS CHAPTER 2, THE CHAPTER THAT WAS MISTAKENLY POSTED WAS CHAPTER 3.

SORRY FOR CONFUSION!

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This chapter is in two parts because of length. First 3 episodes "Welcome to the Hellmouth";"The Harvest"; "Witch" are in the first part. The episodes "Angel"; "The puppet show" "Nightmares" and "Prophecy girl" will be in second installment.

 **Disclaimer** : Joyce and Buffy etc; lines are taken from episodes: "Welcome to the Hellmouth"; "The Harvest"; "Witch"; "Angel" ; "The puppet show" "Nightmares" and "Prophecy girl". There is also, here and there a mention of characters, places and beings from Chris Wooding Broken Sky novels.  
Chumash tale that Joyce tells is taken from the net site Chumash myth and legends.

 **AN** : _Just to clarify, Buffy IS 15 years old here not 16 as in canon, she was called a week after her 15 birthday in January. All that happened in the span of a year in cannon? It happened in a span of months: January, February to now …_

* * *

 **Uncertain present (I)**

 ** _March 1996 Sunnydale_**

Joyce watched as the last moving truck departed, and then she went back inside to her new home that she'll share with her teenage daughter.

The daughter that was sound asleep at the moment. After all, yesterday was trying for Joyce's not so little girl. Joyce however was glad that Buffy didn't take to the move badly. But then again, ever since she returned home, from the insane asylum where she and Hank had her committed for a brief time, Buffy wasn't the same.

Doctors, or perhaps doctor since one disappeared, declared her perfectly sane and healthy, albeit distressed over the murders that took place at Hemery High School and the fighting her parents went through nearly every day. The last part, fighting with Hank, Joyce felt ashamed because it caused her daughter pain.

The doctor also explained that Buffy decided to push passed the anxiety and fear by creatively writing in her diary, to gain control of her emotions. The diary, which Joyce and Hank had read and originally took it as a sign of their daughter's mental instability, was only something Buffy used as an outlet. Hank was not convinced, not that he disbelieved the professional psychiatric, but he was sceptical that Buffy was fully healed. And it showed, Buffy's and Hank's relationship was slightly strained now.

Oh Joyce knew that Hank loved their only child. But he made no effort to understand her. Joyce had a suspicion why that was. Not that that excuse gave Hank an out, but well he was flawed like any other person, herself included.

After all, _nobody_ was perfect.

Hank never really had a family; the relation between his parents, or the people that raised him, was strained when he found out he was not their biological son, by accident, when his 'parents' were talking.

Oh he was related to them, but a distant relation; he was born out of wedlock and Mr. and Mrs. Summers took him in when he was a baby.

He never knew which relative of his was his actual mother. And he was always so awkward with Buffy; oh, he treated her like a princess, but as soon as she hit that troublesome teenage age – he didn't know what to do any more.

"Hey mom!" came a call from upstairs. "I found a wooden trunk in the attic; it's pretty. Can I keep it?" Then there was a pause, "and a vanity with a mirror and …"

"All right Buffy, calm down, I am coming up …. And besides what are you doing in the attic, young lady?"

Honestly Buffy and attic exploring, she was always like that, and Catherine always smiled and called her Little Adventurer.

"But mom!"

"No buts. You will wait and we will go through the stuff left by the previous owners of this house together."

"Fine, but can you hurry up, pleaseeeeee!" came a pleading voice, louder now, when Joyce ascended to the attic.

When she came up, she saw boxes; some toys apparently the previous owners had kids at some point, and some antique vases she'll have to take a look at those. Going around a white sheet covering a piece of furniture, she saw her daughter squatting before two rectangular antique mahogany leather trunks. She'll check later if that is faux leather or actual leather.  
One trunk was large, and would fit nicely at the foot of Joyce's queen size bed, which she had in the master bedroom; the smaller one, which Buffy was admiring, would fit in her walk in closet.  
Running her hands over the polished, and dust free, surface, she spotted a dust rag in Buffy's hand and she smiled, her daughter was polishing the trunks. She must really like them.

"They are hand carved," muttered Buffy.

"Oh and how can you tell?" she asked then laughed at Buffy's blush. "It's fine Buffy, my little treasure hunter."

"Mom! So can I keep the middle sized trunk, huh can I?"

"Middle?"

"Well, there's the large one here," Buffy points to the massive trunk, "but that would probably fit more in your room; you could put the bedding and blankets and free up space for clothes."  
Trust her daughter to think about clothes; Joyce smiled at Buffy's enthusiasm. "The middle one can fit in my walk in closet; I can keep various knick knack's that would clutter my room if not put away." Then she pointed to the smallest trunk, which Joyce hadn't noticed before, and no wonder, it was the size of a drawer.

"And I can use the smallest one to store important papers ..." Joyce mused.

Buffy nodded. "Exactly."

"Don't think you are off the hook, I haven't forgotten you snuck up to the attic."  
"Mom, come on."

 *****Two days later – Monday aka Buffy's First day at Sunnydale High*****

Joyce was making pancakes for Buffy's breakfast; her daughter was up late last night, since she was making sure she had all of her things for her first day of school. Walking to the stairs, so that her voice would carry, she yelled,

"Buffy!" prompting an answer from above.

"I'm up mom," came Buffy's voice; she sounded awake, good. She must've been up a while then.

"Don't want to be late for your first day," Joyce said, "I made you breakfast – pancakes and juice."

"Okay, thanks mom. I'll be down in a minute, or five!"

True to her word, Buffy ran down to the kitchen and abruptly sat before her plate of pancakes.  
"Slow down, dear, or you'll choke. You have enough time to eat like you aren't starving."

Swallowing a mouthful, her daughter gave her a sheepish look. "Sorry, mom."

"Care to tell me what got you so spooked?" At Buffy's widening eyes, Joyce knew that there was something that made her child uneasy. Well, Joyce will have none of that. They moved here, in this small, her New Yorker/LA standards, town, so that Buffy would get out of a stressful environment.

Like the murders of her classmates, fires, and arguing parents. Listed like that, it was a wonder that Buffy really did not suffer a real psychotic break down and not capitalizes on her creative first person writing. Hmm, perhaps Joyce will suggest for Buffy to continue, who knows, she could become an author!

Her daughter, _Buffy Anne Summers the Novelist - writer of fictional novels_. It had a nice ring to it.

"I had a nightmare," Buffy said quietly; she stopped eating for a minute. But Joyce knew that her little, or not so little, girl had a healthy appetite, Joyce thought grimly, she at least prevented Buffy from becoming like many teenage girls, thin as a famine victim.

"Oh what about?" Joyce asked. Buffy smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes, as it usually did, lighting her normally hazel eyes into a green like grass colour, so Joyce knew that she would probably not get the truth.

"Oh, just the normal ones, when you walk around naked in your new school."

Now should she call her daughter out on this or let it go? Looking at the increasingly uncomfortable teen, Joyce relented, smiling slightly. "It was just a dream Buffy, don't worry, you'll do fine in school."

Sometimes she cursed Hank for installing this 'I want to be a popular princess' shtick that Buffy was on through her last years at Hemery High.

Oh granted Buffy was not so much introverted now as she was as a child, when she only looked for Celia's company, because of Hank's expectations of his little princess being 'The Life of the Party'. But Joyce could still catch her reading books that Catherine gave her, not listening to the latest hits, or covertly sketching something when she wanted a break from the crowd.  
Waiting for Buffy to finish, Joyce washed the remaining dishes; she was just drying the pan when Buffy brought her utensils and empty plate over to wash.

"Now I'll drive you to school today," Joyce told her when she took the plate and started to rinse it.

"Okay mom," Buffy said and then ran up the stairs.

 ***** In front of Sunnydale High*****

Joyce pulled up before the walkway that led to Buffy's new school. Buffy was sitting in the passenger seat, watching through the opened window. And Joyce just knew that her daughter was biting her lip. Contrary to what people thought, Buffy was still a bit shy around new people, though she hid it well, and large crowds were still exhausting to deal with on Buffy's bad days.  
And Joyce supposed that going to a new school in the middle of the term, meeting new crowds of people, was Buffy's bad day.

"Now," she said, to draw Buffy's gaze to her. "You have a good time; I know you'll make friends right away," she said encouragingly, "Think positive, and honey …" she attempted to alleviate the somber mood that rested in Buffy's eyes. "Try not to get kicked out."

Joyce saw the corners of Buffy's lips twitch into a genuine smile. "I promise," and with that Buffy exited the car and walked towards the school. Joyce watched her walkway, then turning the key to start the car again; she drove off towards town to see where possible spots to set up her gallery were. And later, she will see if she can get to know her new neighbors.

 *****Later*****

Joyce found the good building to house her gallery, and the price of the building was ridiculously low, as most of the real estate here in Sunnydale. So in the end she ended up not leasing the place but buying it.

This evening Buffy was at home, so Joyce went upstairs to see an open door to her daughter's room. Curious Joyce peaked inside to see Buffy in such agony, that impossible only to a teenage girl trying to pick an outfit. Joyce was glad that Buffy decided to go out tonight, she was worried that her child would close up after the move.

But then again, Joyce noticed that Buffy's energy levels had gone up. She must have hit the point where biologically she can party all night, if she wanted, and still be coherent in the morning.

Ahh to be that young again, Joyce thought warily, while she watched the teen drama begin when Buffy held two dresses before her; one scanty and the other somewhat plain. Buffy held the skimpy outfit before her, making Joyce frown; it was too skimpy for her taste, but then again, if she was a teen, and she could be honest in her thoughts, she'd pick that slutty outfit. Her musings were cut short when Buffy opened her mouth.

"Hi! I'm an enormous slut!" Then she held up the plain one. "Hi! Would you like the copy of the Watchtower?"

Then Buffy huffs and throws them both on the bed. Rubbing her forehead, muttering, so that Joyce can barely hear her, "I used to be so good at this …"

Joyce at this point entered, carefully wiping out any trace of amusement; it's not good to tease an already agitated teen; it can get the desired effect, but it can also backfire epically.

"Are you going out tonight, honey?" Joyce asked. She however noticed that Buffy didn't jump at her words, so Joyce's entrance was not un-noticed. Part of her was proud of her child's situational awareness; this is important for her child's survival against Jachy … Jachyr – something, she could not recall what that strange word means. It just rose to the surface when Joyce was watching Buffy standing before the mirror.

 _The mirror_ , Joyce felt an impulse to grab her daughter away from the danger and smashing every mirror in the house.

What was that _about_?

Buffy however was already answering her question, leaving Joyce bemused at the strange thought, how can mirrors be dangerous?

"Yeah, mom I'm going to the club."

"Will boys be there?"

"No mom, it's a nun club." Joyce could just hear an eye roll, but at least Buffy was taking her teasing well and with humour of her own. That was good, it meant that Buffy at least was trying to not retreat emotionally.

"Well, just be careful."

"I will."

Now the conversation turned so sombre it was making them both uncomfortable and at a loss for words to say. Joyce mentally smacked herself, and hurrying to correct it, she went to the closet to stand beside her daughter.

"I think we can make it work here …" Joyce started to say, rummaging around the closet, pulling a red tank top out, and offering it up for Buffy's inspection. "I've got my positive energy flowing. I'm gonna get the gallery on its feet – I've already got the place. You'll get to see it later, or rather tomorrow after school."

Buffy nodded and gave Joyce a small smile, "Great."

"And that school is very nurturing..." Joyce continued, besides she did go to see Principal Robert Flutie before she and her daughter moved to Sunnydale. What he said struck a cord; he was a faculty member that strived to understand the teens attending school, making sure that the staff in Sunnydale High concentrated on student education, self esteem, and their socialization.

"Which is what you need," she finished after a slight pause, after turning to look directly at Buffy. Seeing her sigh and close her eyes brought a twinge of regret for bringing their attention to just what one of the reasons for their move was.

"Mom…"  
Joyce smiled then, a mischievous smile, to take the memory away from both of them. "Ohh, not too nurturing I know; you are nearly fifteen and a half, it's especially important to mention the half part," Joyce was saying, receiving a stare from Buffy, but even the slightly peeved stare she was receiving from the teen was better than what it was before.

"I read all about the dangers of over nurturing. It's hard. New town and all, for me too, I'm trying to make it work," she said then she leaned forward to smooth her hand over her daughter's cheek, and then dragged her into a tight hug. "I'm going to make it work," she firmly stated into her daughter's hair.

She was rewarded when Buffy returned the hug, slightly tightening her arms around Joyce, like she was afraid of squeezing her too tightly, like Joyce could break.

"I know, mom," she heard Buffy whisper.

Releasing Buffy, Joyce went to the door, and turned back. "You're a good girl, Buffy. You just fell in with the wrong crowd. But that's all behind us now."

Joyce saw Buffy give a short nod. "It is. From now on, I'm only hanging out with the living. I – I mean, the lively… people."

"Okay, have fun," Joyce said, "oh and wear a jacket or something with that tank top; it's a bit chilly outside. And remember tomorrow we are invited to eat dinner at Pat's."

"Who is Pat again?"

"Pat Driver, she lives next door," Joyce elaborated, seeing that Buffy was not recognizing the name. Joyce castes her mind back a couple of days, when she and Buffy meet their new neighbours. "The overly peppy and friendly one?" she elaborated again.

"Ahh okay, I won't forget."

With that Joyce went to the living room. She did a lot today, setting up the gallery, unpacking the rest of her clothes, cooking dinner, she deserved some rest with a good book, or maybe she should turn the TV on.

 *****Week later on Friday*****

Joyce was in her office at her new art gallery, that she named 'Joyous Mural', going through her list of items she would put on exhibition for black and white photography week when the phone rang on her desk.

"Joyous Mural gallery, Joyce Summers speaking," she said when she picked up the phone.

"Mrs. Summers?" came a male voice from the line. "This is Principal Flutie from Sunnydale High."

"Oh yes. What can I do for you, Mr. Flutie?" Then the name sank in. "Is Buffy all right? Do I need to come to the school? Is..?"

"Mrs. Summers, you daughter is not hurt in any physical way," the principal assured the frantic mother. Joyce sighed in relief; her youngest baby was all right.

"But, I have to inform you that Buffy missed a couple of classes today. Granted she did mention that the school librarian, Mr. Giles allowed her to. But I haven't gotten the opportunity to confirm that as of yet. But not to worry, I will inform Mr. Giles that even if we appreciate it, it is not in his authority to give students free passes," Mr. Flutie said from the phone.

Joyce froze, its happening again, she thought. No, calm down Joyce, she took a deep breath. "Thank you for informing me Mr. Flutie."

"Please Mrs. Summers, call me Bob."

"All right, if you'd call me Joyce."

 *****Same day, dusk*****

Joyce was feeling distinctly déjà vu when she went up the stairs to Buffy's room.

"Buffy?" she asked, when she saw clothes everywhere. "You're going out?"

But Buffy's quiet answer made her frown.

"I have to."

She has to? Why does her child sound as she doesn't want to go? Was she retreating back into her shell, or is this something else? Then again...

"I didn't hear you come in last night," Joyce stated watching Buffy still for a moment.

"I was quiet," Buffy said; Joyce sighed.

"It's happening again, isn't it?" Whatever it was, Joyce watched Buffy stop dead then looked at her, resolute. She almost looked defeated to Joyce for a moment, wanting for Joyce to … what?

Joyce didn't know, but she wished she did. She'd do anything to wipe this, defeated, expression from her daughter's face.

"I got a call from your new principal. He informed me you missed some classes today," Joyce stated. Best to get this over with and besides she'll have to make it clear that just because a librarian tells her to do something, Buffy should say no to Mr. Rupert Giles, who has no business sending Buffy or any students on errands. He is not a teacher.

"I was running an errand," Buffy muttered when she pulls her trunk out of her closet, the one that they found in the attic, the brother of the bigger one Joyce herself had in the master bedroom. She opened it and started to go through it.

Joyce sighed theatrically. "We hadn't finished unpacking yet and I am already getting calls from the nice new principal Bob."

"Mom." Buffy now pushed the trunk back into the closet. "I promise you" why did Joyce have a feeling that Buffy meant that honestly "It's not going to be like before." But that her daughter won't be able to keep that promise that she just gave here, right now.

"But I have to go," Buffy finished saying; Joyce looked at the teen for a moment then.

"No," she said, and when Joyce said that, she did not like the look of desperate panic that showed in Buffy's eyes; she hid it quickly but Joyce saw it.

"Mom…" Buffy's eyes darted to the room's window, at the growing darkness outside.

Joyce looked at the ceiling of Buffy's room. "The tapes all say I should get used to saying it. No."

"This is important," Buffy said. Joyce watched her a moment, then steeled herself, she won't back down. Even if she has a feeling that if she forbids her, like those parenting books says she must, Buffy will find a way to go. Even if, Buffy herself, is reluctant to go.

"I know. You have to get out or it will be the end of the world," Joyce said, watching Buffy. Why is there a bitter turn on Buffy's lips when she said that?

"Everything is life or death in the life of a teenage girl," she finished saying. But Buffy just looked on, pleading.

"Mom, I don't have time to talk about it …" Buffy started, but Joyce just sighed, knowing that even if they had hours to talk, Buffy would not tell her. And Joyce didn't know why.

"You've got all night, Buffy, you're not going anywhere. Now you can stay up here and sulk if you want. I won't hold that against you. But if you want to come down, I'll make us some dinner."

Maybe she will manage to distract her daughter, to not sneak out again. Joyce knew that Buffy was going to do that, but she also sensed that she should not trap Buffy in a corner.

"It's your choice sweetheart," Joyce said, before turning around and closing Buffy's room door quietly but firmly behind her.

 *****Summers living room*****

Joyce was hoping this would not happen. Buffy sneaked out again. No she didn't hear her sneak out, but she saw a shadow darting from that three. And part of Joyce, the part that was most elusive and sometimes provided strange flashbacks of memory fragments, was proud of Buffy's cunning escape.

Sighing she poured herself a cup of coffee; it was a long wait before her. She still was not exactly certain what she would do.

Should she confront Buffy about her sneaking habit? But then again, what's the harm in Buffy going out tonight, it is Friday. And Buffy seemed to be settling in just fine. She was studying with Willow Rosenberg, a shy young redhead.

Joyce had meet Willow's parents, Sheila and her husband Ira. Sheila was on tour often, promoting her book about Children's Psychology. The book Joyce was studying, still she was a bit unsure if she should be so attached to what was written there.

 *****Month later; Thursday*****

Joyce was setting dinner for herself and Buffy, when she would return from school which would be soon; Joyce was making a simple meal of rice and fried chicken. Because today a shipment of tribal art of Native Americans in California, in general, and in Sunnydale in particular arrived on her doorstep when she came back from driving Buffy to school. There were crates strewn about in her living room and kitchen.

Wrapping the food up to keep it warm, she set herself to sorting out the inventory and opening the boxes with a crowbar that she kept in her room.

And that's how her daughter found her later, sweaty with aching hands, trying to open a crate; Buffy didn't say anything when she entered the kitchen and thrown her book bag on the kitchen table. Joyce frowned; something was bothering her. But finding out what will be a chore, if she will find out the whole truth at all.

Joyce nearly sagged; she hadn't had this much problem with her other three children and they were teens as well, she thought ruefully. Then she frowned, tugging at the crowbar with more force, not that the crate opened.

She didn't have other kids. _Did she?_

"Hey mom," Buffy greeted her.

"Hi," Joyce said, still trying to get the crate open. "How was school?"

Buffy stopped closer to her, peeking at an already opened crate, where Joyce knew a statue laid in styrofoam and straw. "What's all this?" Joyce heard Buffy ask; she also heard the rustling of styrofoam. It looked like Buffy got curios.

"It's for a tribal art display," Joyce said, "That statue that you're looking at is from South Carolina."

"Oh cool," Buffy said, and Joyce could hear that she picked it up and was looking at it closely.

"Buffy, there are doughnuts on the table, just take that if you are hungry, or you can heat up dinner, rice and chicken, because I really need to finish with this inventory."

"We had tryouts today," Buffy said.

"Great!" Joyce said. "How did it go?"

"Well, I didn't get to try out yet. There was an accident. Pretty fierce competition, though."

"I know you'll do fine. Keep on plugging. Just have to get back on the horse. "

"Mom."

"Yeah?"

"What was I trying out for?"

"Sorry no idea." Did Buffy tell her what try-outs, Joyce thought, it's probably cheerleading or some sort of play?

"That's okay. Your platitudes are good for all occasions." There was no hurt in Buffy's voice, so Joyce supposed that she didn't step on that minefield.

Joyce sighed tiredly, even if Buffy told her what tryouts, she'd forget because … "I'm distracted. I've got a lot of inventory to go through here. This is my gallery's first major show."

Pulling the crowbar out of the wedge she created, she turned to another crate. She'll open this one with an axe or something.

"It might not physically kill you to give me a hand," Joyce said, and she heard Buffy move and the slight creak; good it appears her daughter decided to help.

"It was cheerleading tryouts," Buffy stated, while opening another create.

"Oh," Joyce moved the papers, flickering quickly over the lists, "good, I'm glad you are taking that again. Keeps you out of trouble."

"I'm not in trouble mom."

Joyce nodded, "No not yet, I mean you stopped cheerleading right before the trouble. So it's good you're going back to that." What Joyce didn't add was that Buffy, even being introverted, loved cheerleading and she worked hard for it, since it took dedication and commitment.

Joyce pulled the crate's seal off; she removed the filling and started to pull the statue of a man, then stopped, and raised an eyebrow. That piece will have to wait for Buffy to go out, so she put it back.

"What is it?" Buffy asked. Joyce blinked, and oh she said something out loud that had drawn Buffy's attention.

"Fertility statue, you don't need to see it," and Joyce nearly kicked herself, way to wake a teen's curiosity, well done. But Buffy made no attempt at peeking, yet, Joyce thought sardonically, she just opened the fridge and was looking through it.

"You know, this girl Amy trains with her mom like three hours a day," Buffy said while closing the fridge. "Sounds like her mom's really into it."

Joyce for a moment stilled, thinking, is this Buffy asking her to do it as well, that's what those Children Psychic books say, but she knew Buffy, this was not an invitation for Joyce to help her with cheerleading.

Cheerleading for Buffy was more hard exercises, to keep her need for moving contained, love for dancing, and of course to bond with Hank.

Hank thought cheerleading was the perfect girl's sport for his princess; he didn't know how much energy and commitment and hard work went into it.

"Sounds like her mom doesn't have a whole lot to do," Joyce said, and then shifted the papers again. "Buffy, I'll be right back and then we'll eat together. Set the table please." With that she picked up a couple of art pieces, smaller ones, and went to the living room. But she wasn't far enough away to not hear her daughter's exclamation and slam of the crate. Now that nearly caused her to laugh aloud; Buffy's curiosity won and she saw that male fertility statue.  
Speaking of embarrassing, Joyce found while unpacking her own yearbook; she should show it to Buffy after they ate.

Buffy was gathering her books; she had just finished with her school-work after their meal. So Joyce went and brought out the old yearbook.

"Look what I found! It's my old yearbook, from junior year," Joyce said, then put the yearbook on the kitchen table and opened it.

"Ohh look here I am."

"Mom, I accepted you had sex; I'm not ready to know you had Farrah hair."

Joyce tutted, and smirked at Buffy. "This is Gidget hair. Don't they teach you anything in history?"

"That's cool, I gotta book… have a practice."

"Well I was thinking, I mean I know the cheerleading thing didn't work out. Maybe you should think about joining the yearbook staff. I did it, and it was a lot of fun."

"Not really my type, mom," Buffy said.

"I was the photo editor; I got to be on every page. Made me look much more popular than I was."

"Have you seen the kids who do yearbook, mom? _Nerds_ pick on them."

Joyce blinked. "Oh that's too bad. When I was working on it, those were some of the best times I had in school." What in the world, Joyce thought, doing a yearbook brought both popular and good grades kids together.

Joyce saw Buffy shrug and start to pick at the hem of her jacket that she put on. "That's just it; I'm not you. I'm into my own thing."

"Your own thing, whatever it is, got you kicked out of school. And we had to move here to find a decent school that would have you."

Joyce's mouth abruptly closed the moment the last words passed her lips. That wasn't something she supposed to say. But before she could rectify, take it back or apologize, Buffy grabbed her books and walked out.

"Honey, I'm sorry, baby girl," Joyce sighed, "Great parenting form," she muttered angrily at herself. "Little shaky on the dismount … perhaps it's time to burn that parenting manual."

It was nothing but disaster since she tried to do it by the manual. After all, children are not appliances in the kitchens that are all interchangeable. What Joyce regretted the most however its knowing that she won't be able to mend what was broken till tomorrow.

Joyce grabbed the papers and started to go through the inventory; she had perhaps an hour until the transport comes to take the crates to Joyous Mural gallery, where she will have to unpack it and put the pieces of art into the exhibition places correctly.

 ***** Joyous Mural gallery – opening*****

Joyce could not believe it, even the deputy mayor and Mr. Richard Wilkins III, along with Principal Flutie and his wife Anna showed up. Then there was Mr. and Mrs. Chase, and Mrs. Rosenberg her husband Ira apparently was not able to make it.

Her neighbour Pat however did tell Joyce in advance that Ira Rosenberg was very strict in his religion. So the art that was in Joyce's gallery was deemed inappropriate for his or the Rosenberg's daughter Willow's eyes.

Ira apparently took everything way too seriously, according to Pat. Pat also informed Joyce of other people milling about; she seemed to know everything and everyone. But then again Mr. Rosenberg worked as a scientist in Santa Barbara. And he was not home often, similar to his wife Sheila, who wrote a lot of books on children psychology and therapy. They often left Willow by herself, Pat said, which was one of the reasons that Joyce threw away those books.

There was also a tall, brown haired woman, Pat said that woman was divorced; Mr. Madison left in a hurry accusing Catherine of being an evil witch from hell.

There were also the 'well to do' Mrs. and Mr. Chase…

"Mrs. Summers."

Joyce's musings were interrupted by a male voice; she turned and was greeted with a smiling face of the _Mayor_ of the Sunnydale _himself_.

"Mayor Wilkins," she greeted. "Do you enjoy exposition?"

"Oh yes, I find the Chumash rock paintings fascinating. Do you plan to sell any of the pieces?"

Joyce smiled, "Most pieces in the gallery are for sale yes. Are you interested in any particular piece?"

"Why yes, yes I believe I am, tell me more about this piece." With that Mayor Wilkins pointed at the flat rock, which had two men with a hoop and a stick.

"Ahh, this decrypts an old tale of the Chumash tribe, of two brothers, and thunder and lightning," Joyce started; she always loved this, telling people about the story behind the art.

"There are two brothers who live in the upper world. They sometimes play the hoop-and pole game. One rolls the hoop and the other runs after it and tries to pierce it with his pole. That is what causes thunder. Also they can throw a light they have to make lightning, and when it hits the ground it makes flint," Joyce said. "Or so the legend says, the Chumash also had their own story about the sun…"

 *****Next day, morning*****

Joyce just set the table when Buffy, very peppy and energetic, like she just drank a combination of coffee and black tea, practically flew into their kitchen. Singing.

"Macho, macho man!" Buffy come to an abrupt stop before the kitchen table. "Ohh," she crowed. "Hey juice."

For a moment, Joyce thought that Buffy would say, 'hey juice, I'm Buffy and I'm about to drink you' when she watched her daughter drain the whole glass of juice in one sip.

"Quality juice. Not from concentrate," Buffy said when she was done, looking at the glass and smiling all peppy like, like Pat usually does.

"You are in good mood," Joyce stated, tentatively, after all yesterday their conversation did not end well. And Joyce would do all that she could to not wound Buffy further, besides she needed to apologize to her daughter.

Buffy did a little jump then started to gesture animatedly and talk, so fast that Joyce barely understood her.

"I am. I'm on the squad. This is great because I feel like cheering and leading others to cheer. Hey, juice! "

With that babble Buffy grabbed Joyce's glass of juice and downs it as well.

"Listen honey, about yesterday …" Joyce started apologizing, but Buffy just waved her off practically bouncing.

"That's totally yesterday. Besides, it's not like you were wrong. I did get kicked out. I'm wacky that way." Buffy hopped like she could not stay still, and it was getting concerning.

Was the water in Sunnydale High _drugged_ or something?

"Still, I want you to know that despite the problems you've had …" Joyce said but was interrupted yet again by bouncing Buffy.

"Mom, you don't get it. Believe me, you don't want to. There are just things about being a vampire slayer that the older generation has a problem with."

"A what?" Joyce asked, looking worried. Buffy never referred herself as a vampire slayer, unless she was dosed by drugs in that psychiatric ward; did that mean that somebody drugged her daughter?

"Long story," Buffy said; of course it's a story, Joyce thought, so perhaps Buffy is only slightly drugged.

"Buffy are you feeling well?"

"I can't be in a good mood? That's a new house rule? Fine, I don't mind, cuz I'm a macho, macho MAN!" Buffy skipped outside before Joyce could stop her singing at the top of her lungs.  
Joyce stared, and then started walking toward the phone…

Joyce hated waiting, worrying, until the afternoon. There was a strange coincidence that hit the cheerleading squad; the regulars, like Amber, whose hands were covered in severe burns, were in Sunnydale General. Cordelia Chase suffered sudden blindness and was also in the hospital; one girl was in the hospital unable to speak … then Joyce heard a noise upstairs, and then she practically jumped two steps at a time. Rounding the corner, she entered Buffy's room to see Buffy throwing pieces of some sort of plastic into the trash.

"Buffy!" Joyce said. Buffy turned to face her, and some of the Joyce's tension bled away, seeing her daughter not like she was on caffeine high.

"Hey mom."

"You're well now?"

"Yep back to normal and …"

"I don't get it," Joyce interrupted.

Buffy blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"I've been thinking a lot about where you're coming from, how to relate to you, and I've come to a simple conclusion. I don't get it. What you want, what you're thinking. Not a clue."

Buffy hummed. "I'm inscrutable, huh?"

"You're sixteen." Joyce nearly rolled her eyes. All her teen children were always so sure of their own mystery, Kia, Ryushi, Takami, and Buffy … where did those names come from, who were those people, Joyce thought startled at the intrusion of names and flashes of the teen's faces. Focus on the daughter before you, Joyce chided herself.

"I think there's a biological imperative where I can't understand your excuse; I'm not sixteen."  
"Do you ever wish you could be? Sixteen again?" Buffy asked her.

"There's a frightful notion. Go through all that again. Not even if it helped me understand you," Joyce answered, and Buffy smiled and leaned abruptly toward Joyce and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

 **"I love you, mom."**


	3. Chapter 3

**I APOLOGIZE FOR CONFUSION, I MISTAKENLY UPLOADED CHAPTER 3 (THIS CHAPTER) AS CHAPTER 2, BUT NOW THE CHAPTERS ARE IN RIGHT ORDER.**

 **PLEASE GO READ CHAPTER** **Uncertain present (I) FIRST.  
**

 **LOOK AT THE BRIGHT SIDE, INSTEAD OF ONE CHAPTER YOU GET TWO :)**

 **THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING!**

* * *

 **Uncertain present (II)**

 **Disclaimer** : Joyce and Buffy etc; lines are taken from episodes "Angel"; "The Puppet Show" "Nightmares". There is also, here and there a mention of characters, places and beings from Chris Wooding Broken Sky novels – those are mostly flashbacks of Joyce. Catherine Langford belongs to people owning SG-1 and Stargate franchise.

 **Important** : _Just to clarify, Buffy IS 15 years old here not 16 as in canon, she was called a week after her 15 birthday in January. All that happened in the span of a year in cannon? It happened in a span of moths: January, February to now…_

 **Author's note** : Now we will slowly divert from canon Joyce … well more than we already did.

* * *

 **May 1996, Sunnydale**

Joyce was working late in the Joyous Mural Gallery. Sighing, she closed the inventory books. There will be a shipment of Nubian, Egyptian, and North Native American art coming in the next couple of months. She also sent a letter to Catherine Langford if she ever found some in her travels.

Come to think it, she hadn't heard from Catherine since she had something to do in Colorado Springs.

A loud ringing interrupted her thoughts, she picked up the phone.

"Hello, Joyous Mural Gallery, how can I help you?" she said, wondering who was calling this late.

"Hello Joyce, I just received your letter in the mail," came a woman's voice over the line. It was Catherine Langford, and Joyce was just thinking about her. She nearly chuckled out loud in relief that the old woman was alive and kicking. For an old lady she was, well if there was a saying that woman didn't age well, the one that coined that phrase certainty hadn't meet Catherine Langford.

"Catherine!" Joyce greeted the old woman, who was as vital as a woman in her twenties and not like a woman already in her seventies.

"Hello Joyce, first I apologize of the long absence, but I had some unfinished business that my father and my dear Ernest started," Catherine said, and there was resolution in her voice. Joyce uncouthly straightened; there was power in Catherine words, some things will change porously, Joyce thought.

"I haven't intended to blab such a thing over the phone, but, as I was reminded today by a friend, when he gave me my Eye of Ra pendant, life is short and we have to live in the moment."

Joyce was growing concerned. But before she could voice that concern, Catherine was already soldiering on.

"No I'm not in death's door, I'm as healthy as a horse, and according to Doctor Fraiser here in Colorado, I am heartier and fitter than a man many years my junior. But speaking of men, I know, I already expressed my feelings on the matter of your husband and apologize, again, about how Hank treated you and Buffy."

"There is nothing you could have done, we were wrong for each other from the start," Joyce said, leaning back in her comfortable office chair.

"That might be true, but that is still not your fault," Catherine said, and Joyce could practically hear, _'Don't you disagree with me young lady; I'm older so I know these things'_ in Catherine's tone of voice.

"And considering I gave birth to Hank, I suppose I share part of the blame for his immature handling of woman who is not _'Damsels_ _in_ _Distress'_ or _'Helpless beautiful princesses of honey and roses'_ types. He could never talk to me for long because of that either."

Joyce nearly choked on her own tongue, when she bolted up out of her seat. Did she hear that correctly? Hank is the son of Catherine that she had even though she wasn't married!

"Now don't be such a prude," Catherine chided her, and even over the line she could hear amusement in the woman's voice.

"I said that aloud," Joyce groaned, covering her eyes with her palm.

"Yes. What, just because I wasn't married to Ernest you think we never had sex?"

"Catherine!"

"Joyce, you are grown woman, you should not sound so scandalized when hearing the word sex."

Joyce was unlocking her front door, her mind going over and over Catherine's words spoken over the phone. Joyce had no doubt that Buffy would be all right with that revelation, and Joyce thought that her daughter would respect Catherine's wish of telling Hank in her own time, if Catherine would tell him at all.

When Buffy entered her field of vision, she saw her daughter's eyes scan the darkness, and Joyce fought the urge to do the same, a flash of soldiers in green armor, humming with the power of blue energy, sprang up in her mind.

"Honey, what, are you ...?" She trailed off when Buffy pulled her into the house and closed the door behind them.

"There's a lot of weird people out at night, I just feel better with you safe and sound inside." Buffy, with those words, locked the door, and then regarded Joyce for a moment.

"You must be beat."

"I am. I hate inventory, we're just a little gallery but you have no idea how much paper work there is," Joyce said, shouldering her jacket off and hanging it in closed in the foyer.

"Why don't you go upstairs?" Buffy suggested, then waved in the kitchen's direction. "Get in bed; I'll make you some tea."

Now this was only slightly suspicious, not that Buffy ever did that, make her and Hank tea or cocoa when either was tired, she did that often enough when they lived in LA. But Buffy was way too … shifty, embarrassed and in a hurry to get her out of here and upstairs.

Weary suspicious.

"That's sweet. What did you do?"

"What do you mean?" squeaked Buffy.

Joyce nearly giggled at her daughter's face, right there and then. She might not understand teens well, but she still knew her daughter, and she was definitely hiding something. Buffy was never good at directly lying to the faces of people, at least to someone who knew her well, like her mother.

"I didn't do anything," Buffy was saying aghast. "I'm concerned about your needs; can't a daughter worry about her mom?"

"Sure she can and …" Joyce paused for a moment, seeing movement and then a tall young man, older than Buffy, in a black jacket and pants and white shirt; yeah Buffy was hiding someone, now to figure out why and to possibly read this one's attentions.

"Hi," Joyce greeted the stranger in her house.

"Oh mom, this is Angel," Buffy introduced the young man. He just looked awkward; Joyce paged him as someone who was a layabout heir of some fortune, that didn't have to work, but uncomfortable around women that were self-assured … kind of how Hank was.

It was all right when they met, during that time Joyce was still out of balance, unsure of herself and others due of her lack of memory. Back then she was very much in love with Hank, but then, after a year of marriage, she was not content with being a mere housewife and hostess at parties for Hank associates and clients.

"I just happened to … run into him on my way home," Buffy babbled, and Buffy was the one who suffered the most out of that ill rushed marriage. Joyce was glad to have her. She only regretted in settling down with Hank, and swallowing her irritation at his flirting with clients' wives and secretaries while looping her more into the role of a trophy wife, instead for cutting her losses and divorcing him then and there. It would have spared both herself and Buffy of a much later heartache. She had no doubt that Hank would have given her custody over their child, even then.

"Hello nice to meet you," Angel said. Joyce had to admit he was a handsome young man and had a nice deep voice, with a slight accent … Irish if Joyce judged correctly.

"What do you do, Angel?" Joyce asked, wanting to learn more about him. She watched him hesitate. Yeah, she thought, rich boy.

"He's a student," Buffy piped in. "First year community college." Him being a college student, Joyce could believe; first year was probably incorrect though, he was at least second year.

"Angel is helping me with history. You know I've been toiling there."

Joyce nodded, but inwardly she groaned. This was why her daughter was such a bad liar; the real subject that Buffy was lagging behind in was math, not history.

"It's a little late for tutoring. Don't you think?" She turned to her fidgeting daughter. Huh, looks like Buffy was having a crush on a bad rich boy. She decided not to get into that now, hopping that Buffy would not go down the same path Joyce went with Hank, since the situation was eerily familiar.

"I'm going to bed and, Buffy?"

"I'll say goodnight and do the same."

Joyce turned to Angel and smiled a polite, the kind you give to customers that you know will just watch and not buy anything, smile. "Nice to meet you Angel." With that she headed upstairs, to change her clothing and give Buffy some privacy to say god bye to her guest.

As she got ready to go down to the kitchen to eat something with her daughter, she heard Buffy telling Angel good night and closing the door.

Buffy was setting the table for a late dinner while Joyce was piling up two plates with grilled chicken breast and veggies.

"Mom, should I bring bread as well?" asked Buffy when she set the cutlery, since Joyce had their plates already filled up with food and brought them to their table.

"Yes, honey, I suppose we are both to hungry to cook rice."

"Bon Appétit, honey," said Joyce picking up her knife and fork.

"Thank you and Bon Appétit. Mom, why do we say Bon Appétit? It's French right?"

Joyce thought for a moment before answering. "Yes, perhaps the people thought that saying 'Good eating' or 'Eat good' was too awkward and the French-ed the phrase. By the way I think I'll have to call the exterminator, I heard mice or something upstairs today."

"I bet they'll go away in a day or so. Hey are those new curtains?"

What curtains, thought Joyce when she turned to where Buffy was pointing. When she saw the said curtains, she rolled her eyes; she did not just fall for such a cliché trick, did she?

"Aunt Lolly made those when you were five," Joyce deadpanned; yes she did fall for it. Well, she thought ruefully, it was one of the oldest tricks in the world.

"What am I thinking," Buffy said, Joyce heard a slight airiness in her voice that indicated that Buffy still wanted to direct her away from something. What that something was, Joyce didn't have a clue. Perhaps, she should take another quick look around Buffy's room when she goes to school tomorrow.

"I know what I'm thinking, more protein. Your chicken rocks, mom." And with that Buffy stood up and goes to the stove to serve herself some more food.

"We have an appetite tonight," Joyce observed. "So tell me about this young man, Angel was it? When are you going to see him again?"

"Soon…" Buffy said, with a quick glance upstairs that Joyce caught, ducking her head to the food on her plate to hide her frown. Was Buffy meeting Angel upstairs in a closet or something; was this what she was hiding?

"He is doing more than helping you with your studying, isn't he?" Joyce pinned Buffy, who fidgeted slightly in her seat, proving that Joyce was right on the mark. "You got Willow for mathematics." Buffy opened her mouth.

"Plus, your grades in history are all As," Joyce said, and Buffy's mouth snapped shut at her tone. Good. "I saw the way you looked at each other. We've talked about taking these things slowly. You know how a glacier moves a few feet every year? That kind of slowness."

"Okay, so slower than you and dad took it," Buffy said, and yes there was sarcasm. But Joyce didn't take that as a bad thing. In fact her lips curved into a small smile.

"Touché. Do you want to hear the lecture or do you know it by heart?"

"You were young, you had amnesia, and you were in love. What you weren't over with was your schooling, focusing on a career and …no help from the audience, please, in possession of your own identity."

"That pretty much covers it. You cleaned your plate again… you're not pregnant, are you?"

"What, mom?! I haven't even had sex yet!"

"No? Because I'm pretty sure that you complained about octopus hands Tyler once."

"Mom that was … ugh we didn't go all the way, mom."

"That's good to know, you are only fifteen," Joyce ignored the mumbled, _'I'll be sixteen in January'_ from Buffy. "Still I do hope you'll remember to use protection, and I do not mean just the pill. By the way your … Aunt Catherine called, she'll come over one weekend before your summer break."

Then she gave Buffy a look. "You know, since somebody apparently sabotaged your cheerleading experience, why don't you pick up skating or dancing or creative writing?"

"Mom I barely get by with Math…"

"Which is why you have Willow tutoring you. Hmm, you know our neighbor, not Pat, teaches Math in college. I mentioned you being behind, and she offered to school you."

 *****Next day: Sundown*****

Joyce was fixing dinner for them, this time simple scrambled eggs and veggies. She was absentmindedly humming to herself, thinking of the conversation with her daughter yesterday at dinner, before going to sleep through the night.

Buffy was receptive to idea of their neighbor tutoring her in Math and Chemistry. The subject Buffy didn't have any problems with were English/Literature, Physical Science, and History/Social Science. This was one of the reasons why Joyce wanted Buffy to join the Creative Writing club or Journalism in school, or even take up another foreign language, like French or Spanish. She knew that Catherine was teaching her daughter some of the languages she herself knew, but those were mostly Hindi, which Catherine learned in India, Latin and Greek words, and Egyptian Arabic. Catherine still talked a mixture of those with Buffy so that she wouldn't forget them. Telling her stories of pyramids and pharaohs in Egyptian Arabic, and showing her daughter what some hieroglyphs meant. Then stories in Latin, mostly about Rome, and then there were legends and stories of India.

Joyce's musings about Catherine and Buffy were interrupted …when she heard Buffy scream. Joyce dropped everything and raced upstairs to Buffy's room.

"Buffy, what happened?" she asked her daughter, who was clutching a simple silver cross at her throat, looking out of the opened window.

"Nothing …" Buffy whispered, not taking her eyes from the night covered yard. "I saw a shadow."

"A shadow?" asked Joyce then she stepped over to the window and peered outside. All she could see were dark outlines of the hedges, trees, and the swing in the neighbor's yard… but nothing that would indicate somebody moving.

"Perhaps it was an owl or something," Joyce said, looking at Buffy. "You should close the window before you go to sleep."

"Yeah."

"And set up a bear trap under the window."

"Mom, I'm not home alone and I don't have a bear trap. But good idea, I'll get one."

 *****Week later: Friday, evening*****

Joyce was working at the kitchen table, pouring over paperwork. Buffy was at the library studying with Willow, then she would go to the Bronze and then come home to pack for the sleep over at Willow's home. Poor Willow, she was home alone again.

Which, if Joyce was honest with herself, was a relief; she had way too much paperwork, since the Sunnydale museum would be hosting Peru and Inca artifacts in October, after summer break. Joyce made an effort to make contacts with sellers of Inca and Peru art that could be sold at Joyous Mural.

Suddenly she heard a noise, and she could not place its origin. She looked up from her papers, and frowned at the thought. Was it from outside? Or was it inside?

"Buffy?" she said, just in case her daughter had come home and Joyce didn't hear her come in. But there was no answer. So Joyce returned back to her paperwork, but most of her attention was concentrated on sounds around her. Something inside of her was telling her to be alert, from the same place where her occasional flashes of images and impressions came from.

When there was another noise, Joyce was ready and she was able to pinpoint it to outside. What's more, she was able to deduce, and she had no idea how she could, that it was the creaking of floorboards on the patio at the back of the house, where she left her gardening tools. She stood up and went to the back door and peered outside – the back yard was empty as far as she could see.

But she saw that the garden tools were not in the place she left them, and some bushes were disturbed. Perhaps she had a badger or a hedgehog making a home in her garden, or a fox. Joyce turned; brow furrowed in thought, having any of those animals making a home would be good for her garden. Well perhaps not the badger, but the hedgehog and fox … could make sure there were no rodents, like rats or mice in her garden, and since she had no intention of having a chicken coop, a fox would not cause any damage by taking a chick.

Joyce looked toward the hall, where the front door was. Perhaps she should check if the lower windows and door are locked; she knew that she locked them, but perhaps she should check one more time after she was done with her paperwork.

Decision made, she went back to the dining room, where she left the papers, then stopped, and for a moment she thought that she saw a flash of blonde at the window in the back from the corner of her eyes.

Turning around, she saw the window by the back door was empty. Her frown becoming more pronounced, Joyce was feeling a bit spooked, so she was looking around tentatively, trying to see if there was something out of place inside the house.

When the doorbell rang, Joyce literally jumped because she was so startled by the sudden shrill sound. Pressing her hand to her racing heart, to calm herself, she went to the front door and looked through the peephole. Seeing a small young blonde girl in a school uniform, she opened the door. The girl standing on her porch, school books in hand, looked a bit old for a school girl, but some teens these days looked older than they were.

"Hello?" Joyce said, expecting for the girl to fill in the blank.

"Hi," she said in a breathy voice. Joyce almost frowned again, this tone, it reminded her of another tone … she nearly winced when a flowery scent, smoke, and a woman lying on the sofa in clothes of screaming colors assaulted her memory. Firmly banishing the image of the reclining woman to the back of her mind, she focused on the courtesan … err, Joyce pinched the bridge of her nose, on the school girl. Why would she think of the school girl like that?

"I'm sorry dear, what was it you said?" Joyce asked, since she missed what the girl was saying. The girl smiled, an innocent smile, too innocent, a voice whispered.

"I'm Darla, a friend of Buffy," Darla said. How in the world could Buffy get to know a girl from an all girl's school. Yes, Joyce did look at the all girls' school in Sunnydale. But later she decided on Sunnydale High.

"Oh, nice to meet you," Joyce said, just the same, even if, Darla's story of knowing Buffy was suspicious.

"She didn't mention anything about me coming over for a study date?"

"No," Joyce said, now this was becoming more and more suspicious; what was this Darla's intention, to sell something?

"I thought she was studying with Willow at the library."

"Oh, she is, Willow's the Civil War expert, but then I was supposed to help her with the War of Independence. My family kind of goes back to those days," Darla said. Joyce nearly called her out on that lie right then and there.

Buffy was studying algebra with Willow today. History however, Buffy had no problem with – one of the reasons why Joyce found Angel, being her history tutor so questionable. Joyce smiled at the girl, a plan forming in her mind.

"I know she's supposed to be home soon, would you like to come in and wait?" Joyce moved away from the door and Darla. You WILL tell me what connections there are between you and Angel, Joyce thought. She had a sneaky suspicion that Darla and Angel were connected on an intimate level. So, Joyce thought, she'll invite the possibly jealous ex, or worse current, girlfriend of Angel whatever his last name was, and possibly have a Jerry Springer show in her living room when Buffy comes home.

"That's very nice of you to invite me into your home," said Darla, and Joyce wondered about the odd phrasing of her words. Shrugging it off as no big deal, Joyce closed the door after Darla. Just as the wood clicked closed a strange feeling traveled to the space between her vertebrae or rather where those odd four rosy- pearl white stones lied in the voids between Joyce's vertebrae.

the doctors who treated her years ago were unable to explain or surgically remove those stones because they feared that if they attempted to she would be bound to a wheelchair, but Dr. Pierce, a head surgeon, stated then that those stones were safe where they were and were no danger to her health, although they puzzled him as well.

"Ahh you have a lovely home," Darla commented.

"You're welcome," Joyce said when Darla entered the dining room, where Joyce started to clear up the paperwork.

"I've been wrestling with papers all night, would you like something to eat? And please sit, I have made some lemonade," Joyce said, while going to the kitchen and starting to rummage through the cupboards.

"Let's see what we have," Joyce muttered while opening the fridge. Then she raises her voice, so that Darla could hear her in the dining room.

"Do you feel like something little or something big?"

"Something big," Darla said, and Joyce almost jumped because Darla's voice was so close. But before she could turn to see what the school girl wanted, a strong hand grabbed her by the shoulders and the other tilted her head. The arm's grip was so strong and so sudden, that Joyce couldn't do a thing to react, except to scream when she felt the searing biting pain at the exposed side of her neck.

But one scream was all that she managed when a fog, that strangely felt familiar, blood loss that was it, Joyce sluggishly thought. Did someone take a knife to her neck…was she bleeding to death?

"Let her go," said a male voice, a voice she heard before …Angel!

"My dear boy," Darla purred, she sounded sultrier than before. Ha school girl, this was no school girl, Joyce thought. But the pressure on the side of her head lessened, and she fell limply into the hold, two hands circling her waist holding her up like some sort of ragdoll.

"I only took a little; there is plenty more, and it is delicious. Your blood is so fresh and uncontaminated; I've never tasted anything like it since the 19th century. Ah, the disadvantages of pollution. Aren't you hungry for something warm after all this time?" Darla asked somewhere above Joyce. Was Darla the one holding her up so effortlessly? And what did she mean with 'hungry'?

"Come on Angelus …" Darla said, this time her voice was more distant to Joyce. She was feeling groggy again, she was losing consciousness. She felt herself being thrown and colliding into another hold … male, probably Angel.

Did Darla throw her at him?

The last thing Joyce heard, when she drifted away, was Darla's voice saying, "Welcome home."

There was a buzzing in her ears, and then she heard Buffy's voice through the cold fog clotting her senses.

"Mom, mom can you hear me?" Buffy was calling for her, but the only sound she was able to produce was a groan. She couldn't move. She couldn't tell her daughter anything. She heard Buffy's voice; it sounded like she was talking far away.

"I need an ambulance, sixteen thirty Revello Drive. My mother …" Ahh Buffy was calling an ambulance. Joyce was feeling a bit better now, and trough she didn't have strength to open her eyes or talk, she felt like she was in cold fog.

"Cut herself."

No I did not, Joyce thought indignantly, and her conciseness cleared away some more of that fog.

".. She lost a lot of blood. Please hurry." Joyce heard Buffy hang up, and heard her quick steps drawing closer; she heard the door open, and two more sets of hurried steps.

"Hey, Buffy we …" a male, boy, voice said, "Oh my God." God had nothing to do with this, Joyce thought sarcastically; she briefly wondered where Angel and Darla went. Did Darla attack her and Angel dragged her away?

Was Darla a psychotic, crazy ex girlfriend of Angel or something? They obviously knew each other; Though Angel didn't feel any joy when Joyce heard him. He did say _'Let her go'_ and after that Joyce remembered that she crumpled to the ground.

"What happened?" Willow's voice said, distant; oh no she was losing consciousness again.

"Angel." Buffy's voice came from a far.

Did Buffy think Angel attacked her? Was Joyce's last thought, before her vision went dark and she heard no more talking between her daughter and friends.

 *****Sunnydale General*****

When Joyce woke up from a pleasant dream, no, a memory fueled dream, of a tall, muscular man that Joyce could swear that his shoulders would fit the entire door frame. With spiky dark brown hair tied in the short spiky ponytail, with laughing lines around warm dark eyes, she was pretty sure that they were dark blue almost black eyes. He had the appearance of a man in his forties. He had a beard too, like she saw depicted in some pictures from the Count of Monte Cristo film.

She was younger, and he called her his wife, and she had a different name - Yov'ana.

His name was Banto, and she was holding their daughter Kia, while Banto was holding Kia's twin brother Ryushi, and beside them stood a two year old boy, the more delicate version of his father - Takami. They were living together with Banto's extended family on Osaka Stud.

It was by a very unpleasant pen light in her eye that she batted it away, which woke her up from her trip down forgotten memory line.

"Easy, Mrs. Summers," a female voice with a Mexican accent soothed. "I'm Dr. Marisol Aguado you are in Sunnydale General, where an ambulance brought you."

"What happened?" Joyce asked the doctor, who appeared to be waiting for something.

"What do you remember?" asked putting her pen light in her breast pocket. She was a pretty, middle aged Hispanic woman, with an olive complexion and dark eyes and black curly hair bound in a high ponytail.

Joyce had a stray thought where she pondered on the woman's name, the historic art buff in her could not resist to analyze it. Marisol could be a meld between the words mare and sol, sea and sun. Or is could be a unison of two names: María and Soledad, Soledad meaning 'loneliness' in Spanish. Aguado was derived from the Spanish word for Agua which meant water, indicating a person who lived near water or worked with water.

"I had a visitor … I remember feeling afraid and then pain in the neck, then being cold," Joyce said, weakly, she was still tired, weak.

"You were rushed to General by an ambulance that was called by your daughter," here smiled faintly. "It's thanks to her quick reaction time that we were able to save you. You had a Class III Hemorrhage, which means you lost 38 percent of your circulating blood volume."

"That's Buffy, she was always quick on her feet," murmured Joyce proudly, then her eyes narrowed. "What else?"

"The only visible wound" and here Joyce felt a slight sarcastic, acceptance, and helpless furry coming from the woman, "was puncture marks on the left side of your neck by a sharp object, probably a barbecue fork."

Now that, Joyce thought, was a lie, for one she was nowhere near any forks. Second something was preventing her from accepting this explanation as truth. Partly the onslaught of feelings she felt, from the kind doctor treating her; the other part, she could feel a humming vibration in her spine from the … spirit stones, that's what they were called. And she had them from infancy. She got them in her pah'nu'kah ceremony.

"You were treated with fluid resuscitation with crystalloid and blood transfusion. You'll still experience some lapses into unconsciousness and you will feel tired, but it will pass in a couple of days."

She was resting, dozing off, since she received her last transfusion, when she felt Buffy next to her. There were also two others, Willow she knew, but there was also a boy. She felt their worry, but there was also teen drama: boy likes a hot new girl, the boy is liked by the shy bookworm girl, and the hot new girl has friend-zoned them both.

"Do you remember anything, mom?" Buffy asked

"Hmm, just your friend came over; I was making a snack for her…" Joyce said sleepily, her eyelids dropping in fatigue. She could her how Buffy abruptly turned and stood up; she was angry, Joyce felt it.

"My friend …" Buffy said.

But Joyce continued, it was funny how distant her own voice sounded. "I guess I slipped and cut my neck on well Doctor Aguado said it looked like a barbecue fork, and we don't have a barbecue fork . . ." Joyce trailed off, cracking one eye open. There was an older, distinguished gentleman with glasses, that he was polishing, "Are you another doctor?" she asked.

Buffy turned back to her and squatted by her hospital bed. "Mom, this is Mr. Giles," Buffy said.

"The librarian from your school? What's he …?" Joyce was puzzled by this man's appearance. Why was he constantly popping up? If she hadn't been getting only concerned feelings off of him, she'd be worried that he was some sort of child molester.

"I just came to pay my respects," Mr. Giles said, with a cultured British accent. So he was British, wasn't that interesting, Joyce thought. What was a British national doing in California?

"Wish you a speedy recovery."

Feeling a bit woozy she closed that one eye; as she drifted off, she made one more comment. "Boy, the teachers really do care in this town."

"Mom, get some rest now," she heard Buffy say and felt her daughter's kiss on the cheek, as she slipped back into a healing sleep.

When she drifted back to wakefulness, it was dark again. Joyce was still feeling a bit groggy, but not as tired. Looking around her hospital room, she saw Mr. Giles sitting by the door.

"She talks about you all the time," Joyce said, drawing the librarian's attention to her from the old book he was reading. "It's important to have teachers who make an impression."

"She makes quite an impression herself."

"It appears she has trouble in history, for a change. Is it becoming too difficult of a subject or is she not applying herself?"

"She lives very much in the now and of course history is very much about 'the then' but there is no reason..."

"She never needed help with history, she's studying math with Willow that I get, and math was never her strong suit. But suddenly Darla shows up yesterday for a study date … Buffy is trying …"

"I don't believe I know," Giles started to say.

"Darla," Joyce said pointedly, "the girl in a school uniform that was with me when I fell-" Joyce's voice turned biting "on a barbecue fork."

"Darla was the…she was the friend you mentioned earlier?" Giles asked, suddenly both frantic and in a hurry.

Joyce nodded. "Poor thing," she said, watching the librarian under her eyelashes, she sensed something was going on … something dangerous. "I probably frightened her half to death when I fainted." Now Mr. Giles was looking relieved as well, because, he thought that she what, Joyce thought, forgot that she supposedly fell on a barbecue fork, which she did not own?

"She ran away when Angel showed up, didn't you see him lurking about?"

"Angel?" Giles asked.

"Yes, he caught me after I fell. Someone should make sure Darla's all right," Joyce finished, somebody should make sure Darla doesn't attack anybody else.

"Yes somebody should, right away. I'll do it."

"This school is amazing," Joyce said, as Giles was closing the door. Amazingly dangerous, where the heck did they moved to? But despite that realization, she knew they could not move back to LA or anywhere else. They were stuck here in Sunnydale, for now.

One of the nurses brought her clothes. She was being discharged today with some instructions for what she had to eat for building up her iron, since she had lost a lot of blood when Darla attacked her. What she could not understand was the almost fanatical feel in the hospital to understand this attack as a barbecue fork incident. But now, it didn't matter, if she saw Darla again, she won't be the one lying in a pool of blood. She did regain her knowledge of how to use a spear and a bow, and use it well. She could give those men in tights, ragged company and Little John and Robin Hood a run for their money.

Smiling softly, Joyce calculated how she could get her hands on a bow, preferably a compound bow and some sturdy arrows, along with a spear. A spear would not be a problem; she recently received a nicely made, sturdy Chinese kung fu short spear, or War dragon spear, that was used in the Ming dynasty.

She picked up her brush, but paused after she ran her brush through her hair; she studied her reflection.

 **Who was she?**

This woman of average height, fair skin, long, light, wavy brown hair, blue green eyes looking back from reflection, and as far as official documents were concerned was in her thirties. Joyce Summers, thirty-three year old, single parent to a teen daughter, Buffy. But that was not correct.

Well the part about Buffy was correct. Buffy was Yov'ana's child. Yov'ana whom had had four children: Takami, the twins Kia and Ryushi, and Buffy albeit Buffy was with another husband.

Part of her, the part that was Joyce Summers, was freaking out, because while she was divorced now, she was not divorced from Hank while she was married to Banto, still married to Banto. She was a bigamist!

Then the Yov'ana part of her sassily pointed out that one: She had lost her memory, so having been married to Hank was not something to panic over, especially because she wasn't married to Hank now. Though she was still married to Banto and as far as she knew, he was still alive, hopefully.

And two: having two spouses at a time was not unheard of in her tribe. Granted it was usually two wives, but having two husbands at the same time were not unheard of, unusual yes, but not unheard of.

And now she was like those poor people that had split personalities … except that she was not. Joyce and Yov'ana were one and the same, and while she didn't possess all her memories of her life as Yov'ana, she knew enough.

She knew what the spirit stones in her back could do.

She knew what caused her to get here. She knew that she should be dead, that the backslash of energy from King Macaan's forces and that machine the king was testing should have killed her. But it didn't, it transported her not to Kirin Taq which was a mirror world of Dominions but to another world entirely.

She speculated that she was in another world; though research on how she and Buffy could return to her home world would have to be gradual. It would do no good if people here locked her up on insanity charges. Or worse believed her and she'd be dissected by mad scientists, or something like that.

What Yov'ana … no it was Joyce now, it was better to think of herself as Joyce for now. Safer, she needed to fit in as much as she could, before most of her memory returned.

Still, now she had a better idea why she was so uneasy when looking at mirrors before regaining her memory.

The Jachyra was a secret police that could spy on people through mirrors, or any decent reflective surface, and what was worse; the Jachyra could also travel through mirrors. They were more machines than living beings, and Macaan had a tight leash on those poor souls.

She did fear them, the Jachyra, however before she was blasted into another dimension, badly hurt and with memory loss, Yov'ana learned a terrible truth about them.

They were once human, Resonants that Macaan and his daughter collected from Dominions and Kirin Taq. Kidnapped them in fact, Yov'ana had discovered when she and a couple of others infiltrated one of the King's houses, and then made, augmented by tortures procedures, of metal to make them fast and deadly. They were covered in rags and bandages to hide how much they had changed, and unlike the King's Guardsmen, the Jachyra hate Macaan. He made them into monsters, but thanks to the trigger stone in his forehead, Macaan retains complete control - he has to merely think it, and they would all die, due to being implanted with stones connected to the trigger stone.

That was a horrible way to exist, because neither Yov'ana nor Joyce would call that a living. Unfortunately the Resonants that become Jachyras had it easier than most of Resonants, as horrible as that sounded, there were Resonants neither dead or alive imbedded in a machine of some sort that she saw, right before her team was attacked on all sides by Jachyras and King's Guardsmen.

She remembered fighting first with her bow, then with her spear. But one of the Guardsmen's Air Blast hit the machine and … then she woke up in a hospital with no memory.

Joyce was sitting in the backyard, a table before her, and she was watching a pile of food on the plate in bemusement. Buffy had taken on manic pampering of her when she came home. Joyce had every intention of kicking Buffy all the way to school, if she intended to skip classes for taking care of her.

Joyce was not incapable of taking care of herself. And besides, how could she make searches on her computer if Buffy was hovering over her like a wyvern female over her juveniles. Joyce was fifty one years old for Cetra sake.

"Here, Mom, you gotta eat this. It's what the doctor said, to build up your iron. How are you feeling?"

"I'm thinking I should say not so good so you'll continue to wait on me hand and foot but I cannot tell a lie. I feel fine," Joyce said. "Fact is, I feel, better than just fine."

"Good. I was so worried about you; I mean it actually made me feel sick. If anything happened to you . . ." Buffy trailed off, and Joyce put her hand on Buffy's, drawing Buffy's attention to her.

"Now you know how I feel about you every minute of every day," Joyce said.

"I guess I do. Ouch, and now I am so sorry for about a kazillion things I've put you through," Buffy said, and then motioned to the plate full of broccoli. "Now eat your vegetables."

"I did."

"Mom…"

"I had two big bites," Joyce said with a straight face. Then sobered up. "Honey, I've been thinking about making the basement into an exercise room."

"Uhu, why?"

"Well, I remembered something, that's tradition in my family, for me to pass it on to my youngest daughter …"

"I'm your only daughter …"

"More reason for me to pass on the spear style and archery."

"Again, huh?"

"But first I have to see how much I'll need to get back in shape," Joyce said, then reached over and ruffled Buffy's hair, earning a distressed whine from her teen daughter.

 *****28th of April 1996*****

Joyce was hard at work, making the basement more appropriate for exercise. She also bought a target for archery, two collapsible bows and staffs. Hearing Buffy, she called out for her.

"So how was school?" Joyce asked, grabbing a staff and testing its weight, then securing a blunted tip on one end to make a spear for practice.

"Mom, what's all this?"

"Mm, I did tell you, didn't I, when I was discharged from the hospital, about three weeks ago? That I remembered an old family tradition, yes?" Joyce said, throwing one practice staff at Buffy who caught it.

"Never mind if you have heels on, honey," Joyce continued, when Buffy opened her mouth to say something. "Just kick off your shoes and join me on the mat."

"It's unbalanced," Buffy muttered when she twirled it.

Joyce smiled. "It's meant to be, I'm going to teach you spear fighting."

"What? Mom, you can't use the spear …ughhh." Buffy started to argue, but Joyce twirled her own practice staff and tripped her daughter, then stopped the one tip of the staff between Buffy's eyebrows.

"And you are unconscious, dear," Joyce said.

"I was not ready…" grumbled Buffy, then sprung to her feet. Twirling the staff like a baton, oh yes, Joyce thought, Buffy definitely inherited her tribe's agility.

"Now, before we start," Joyce said, ignoring Buffy's muttered, 'oh no not another lecture', "is that the most important first technique I can teach you is feinting and deception. Second thing is don't wait to be attacked, gain and hold the initiative so that your enemy has to react to you. Make them dance to your tune, Buffy. Spear fighting is a psychological attack as well as a physical one. Your enemy may be overwhelmed by your attack and lose heart for the fight, prompting a flight response." Saying that Joyce twirled her own staff.

"Now I'll teach you what to do when you want to change sides, or need to change sides while fighting. Watch closely."

Joyce then loosened her grip with her forward hand so that the staff passed easily when she pushed other end with her rear hand; she pushed until the two hands meet. Then she extended her arms for extra reach. She let go with her rear hand while simultaneously pulling sharply backwards with the front hand. Leaving her free hand to catch the staff and now it took its place as the front hand when she stepped forwards or backwards.

"Now the footwork you use will depend on whether or not you wish to move forward or backwards, but when all's said and done, you should end up in a proper guard. Now it's your turn."

To be continued.

* * *

 **Next** : Before and after "Prophecy Girl" episode, Catherine Langford visit to Sunnydale AND summer break, where Buffy leaves to LA to stay with her dad. If you want to find out what happened to Buffy, read Buffy-Champion of Ankhseram.

Small info about Chris Wooding' Broken Sky stems from a myth which postulates the theory that, many years ago, Kirin Taq and the Dominions existed on the same physical plane; effectively being a single world. The sky was then "split" - or broken - forcing the worlds to separate, though whether this is meant figuratively or literally is left unclear.

 **Resonants** are not given spirit stones at all, and it is stated by Elani (see below) that Resonants cannot use spirit stones. Instead, they are able to shift between the worlds of Kirin Taq and the Dominions, and take along anyone they are touching.

The **Jachyra** are Macaan's secret police. The general public know very little about them, and believe even less. They are, according to popular myth, invisible and always watching you - so even if people did believe all the tales, it would only help Macaan's cause, as they would think they are always being watched. In fact, the myths aren't too far off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer** : Joyce and Buffy etc; lines are taken from episode "Prophecy girl". There is also, here and there a mention of characters, places and beings from Chris Wooding Broken Sky novels – those are mostly flashbacks of Joyce. Catharine Langford belongs to people owning SG-1 and Stargate franchise.

 *****Summers Residence – Monday*****

 _Sa'airn moved like something out of a nightmare, in slow-motion, creasing and breaking like waves in half formed humanoid shapes. They rose out of the sand with distorted faces that shifted and melted with two simple eyes and a mouth made of hollows and shadows. Their thick arms elongated in a club like fingerless…_

Joyce woke up, on a Monday morning earlier than usual, but that was to be expected, as she had dreamed about her past. Joyce knew that that was not all; she still had some memories lost to her, but she remembered enough.

She was born as Yov'ana, into minor nobility/merchant family of the Dominions. At the time of her childhood, there was no Macaan taking over yet; King Oko and Queen Vida ruled the Dominions, in great prosperity.

Yov'ana was five when her parents started to travel; they loved to be on the move, and due to her mother Le'anne being a Resonant, they could move- shift, her mother said, from Dominions to Kirin Taq and back again.

Joyce remembered that as Yov'ana, she was a happy, happy child. When she'd meet Banto, she was sixteen years old and her and her parents were in the deserts of -, she didn't recall where, Joyce thought that those Deserts were in Dominion. But she did recall the Sa'airn that dwelled there and harassed the nomads.

Banto was a tall, dark haired man of twenty-six at the time, and swept Yov'ana off her feet. Her parents were delighted.

On her eighteenth birthday, Takami was born. He was the perfect image of his father Banto and their little family settled, breeding wyverns at Osaka Stud in the mountains. They were so content. But it hadn't last long.

Macaan invaded from Kirin Taq, when Takami was a year and a half; King Oko was killed, and no one knew what had become of the Queen and her unborn child. All who tried to defend the royal family were put to the sword or sent into the Spirit stone mines.

But enough of this trip down of the remembered memories of memory lane, Joyce thought as she dressed in her trainers and went downstairs for a quick work out with her spear, and perhaps later she would try her hand at some more archery. She was getting better and better.

Smiling slightly when she breezed through the familiar moves, and despite the muscle memory, the moves resulted in aching limbs for the first couple of weeks when she started with the training. After all she was quite older now … dear Cetra, she thought, she was forty-five!

She was glad, however, that she didn't show Buffy what she knew at the time, and was glad for her daughter's distracted mind.

Though, Joyce was worried what the distraction could pose for her youngest daughter's life. Now that Joyce was 'awake' to her own surroundings she noticed the oddities in this town.

How could she not!

The town had more cemeteries than LA, and LA was a bigger city that the made Sunnydale seem like a provincial village. Spying the clock, she started, how come Buffy was still in bed? She turned and walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and knocked on her daughter's door.

There was no answer. Feeling worried now, she entered the room; it was dark, on the account that curtains were blocking the sunlight from entering. Buffy was tossing and turning on her bed.

She was having a nightmare from the looks of it.

"Buffy," Joyce said, "Buffy wakeup." She shook Buffy's shoulder, but Joyce was alert; Buffy had a fighter's instincts; she could see that much when they were down in the basement for spear fighting training on the mats. At that Joyce deemed it prudent to be ready to move quickly if Buffy's nightmare would make her wake up swinging at the threat. Joyce wasn't keen on sporting a bruise not associated with training.

"Buffy, it's time to get up for school," Joyce said when she saw that Buffy's eyes were open and blinking owlishly at her.

"Oh mom…" Buffy breathed and rubbed her eyes. Joyce frowned for a millisecond, because she didn't want to tip the teen that she KNEW that something was amiss with Buffy. Something more than a nightmare she apparently just waked from.

"Are you all right?" Joyce asked as she lowered herself on the bed, while Buffy pulled herself up so that she was sitting on the bed, her lower body still covered in blankets and her blonde hair in disarray.

"No … yeah, I'm … school. Great, I go now." She hopped out of bed and strode purposely toward the bathroom. Then stopped, turned back, and went to the closet.

"You want to go to school?" Joyce asked, sitting on Buffy's bed and watching Buffy flutter about like a distressed, and lost, butterfly after the rain.

"Sure why not?" Buffy asked, shrugging her shoulder, as she busied herself with poking at the ornaments, picking up sea shells that she kept and putting them back on the shelf; Joyce felt her eyebrow rise at her daughter's nervous behavior.

"Good day to buy lottery ticket – okay," Joyce said, "Care to talk about it?" At Buffy's deer in the headlights look, Joyce elaborated. "About your nightmares."

Buffy gave another shrug. "It was nothing, really, or rather the classical running late, arriving naked thing," and she opened her closet doors.

"Catherine called; she will be here tomorrow for lunch," Joyce said as she watched Buffy duck into her bathroom to dress, leaving the door open a crack so that she could talk with Joyce.

"That's okay," Buffy said, "How about dad, did he call too, and is it still on for break?"

"I spoke to your father," and wasn't that a bucket of fun for Joyce. Hank completely forgot that Buffy would be staying with him during her break. Apparently her pause made Buffy worried because her head peeked out from the bathroom.

"He is coming to pick me up, right?" she asked concerned.

"You are on for this weekend." Joyce smiled, there was no need for Buffy to know that Hank forgot about it; Joyce only hoped that he did what he promised of rescheduling his trip. She was well aware that his boss would not mind it as it was not time sensitive, and she was loathe to think Buffy would be alone in LA when she should be spending her time with her father.

"Good, you know he kind of promised me a car …"

"Only if you get your driving license," Joyce felt compelled to point out, though; it would be easier if Buffy would get a car of her own.

"Yes, I know, there are driving lessons in LA, I already applied for a couple of hours; I passed the written part of it anyway."

Buffy exited the bathroom, dressed in a simple white T-shirt, jeans, and a jacket. "I'm ready to roll."

"You have time for breakfast," Joyce said. "And I'll drive you to school so you won't be late."

Joyce was sitting in the driver's seat, driving toward Sunnydale High with an unusual quiet Buffy in the passenger seat.

"You've been awfully quiet the entire time; what's the matter Buffy?"

There was a tired sigh from her right. "I didn't sleep so well," Buffy answered. That was the understatement of the year, Joyce thought.

"I'll say, I came to check on you twice. You were yelling in your sleep. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"

If Joyce's suspicions were correct, Buffy was dreaming of Vampires or something equally disturbing. Joyce really wanted to somehow broach the subject, but how could you bring something up – something that your child was telling you about and you put her in an asylum for disturbed teens for?

"Not really." Buffy's mumbled reply didn't fool her; sighing, Joyce reached behind and gave Buffy her overnight bag.

"You did say you'd like to have a sleepover with Willow, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, this is the right bag – you grabbed the wrong one by mistake."

"Oh."

Now Joyce was sure something was definitely wrong.

"Hey honey, you all right?"

"I guess."

"You are probably full of that breakfast you barely had. Feel like telling me what's on your mind?"

"No, it's nothing mom. Don't worry. Oh gosh I gotta go." Buffy jumped out of the car and rushed toward the school entrance.

Joyce was driving around the block away from her house; she had just bought ingredients for tomorrow's dinner. She planned to make cooked sweet potatoes with salad and cinnamon chicken.

Just as she was pulling into her driveway, she saw a corvette parked in front of the house and exiting the corvette was Catherine Langford.

"Catherine!" Joyce exclaimed surprised, her honorary mother in law wasn't supposed to arrive until tomorrow.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," Catherine apologized, while she stepped over to Joyce's car to help her with carrying the bags, "something came up, and I had to move up my schedule."

"Oh so…"

"I'll impose on you and Buffy today and tomorrow, and then I'm going back to Colorado. I can stay in a hotel…"

No she couldn't; for one, the house had a spare room, with a couch that could extend into a bed, and two – there were vampires infesting Sunnydale, and Cetra knows what else.

"No, we have a guest room, I just need to bring you some sheets, a pillow, and blanket, and it'll be ready."

"Oh that's all right … Buffy's in school?"

"Yes, and I have to call her; she intended to have a sleepover with Willow Rosenberg tonight and …"

But Catherine just shook her head, "No need, I'll see her tomorrow just as well, just because my plans have changed for a bit – it's no need to disturb the gal's sleepover."

"Aunt Catherine!" Buffy exclaimed the next day, when she came into the kitchen. Joyce and Catherine were just finishing breakfast and Catherine was pouring freshly brewed coffee into the coffee mugs.

"How was the sleepover with – Willow was it?" Catherine asked looking up, while placing the coffee pot back on the table. "Have you eaten breakfast with your friend? Want coffee?"

"Yes, Willow my new girl-buddy and not a cheerleader either …mom why didn't you call me? I would have come yesterday and yes I had breakfast with Willow. But I wouldn't mind some coffee."

"I know, Buffy," Joyce said as she watched her daughter retrieve a slightly larger mug, then opened the fridge to pour a little milk in. "And I know you'd have come straight home if you'd knew, but-"

"But," Catherine took over the explanation, while pouring Buffy her share of coffee. "I asked your mother not to call. Besides what I have to tell you …well …"

"Oh, Catherine, are you suddenly embarrassed?" Joyce teased, amused by the sudden avoidance.

"Nope, I just know how teenagers just love the conversation about their parents having sex," Catherine shot back.

"Ewwwwww," Buffy drawled, wrinkling her nose as teens' were so in habit of doing.

"See…" Catherine pointed at Joyce's daughter, smiling at the faces Buffy was making.

"That is gross, do we really have to talk about it. I know that like, older people do it; I am pretty sure that Mrs. Carson and Mr. Carson still do it and they are like seventy."

"Good for them…well this is kind of unavoidable; I can however promise not to gross you out too much."

Buffy turned toward Catherine "That is not exactly reassuring," she stated verily.

"Well, you know how I am unmarried, but were engaged?" Catherine asked tensely. Joyce fought down a smirk at Catherine's sudden timid behavior. Oh Joyce knew it would not last, but she would relish it while it does.

"Yes, you told me stories about Ernest."

"Well, we had sex, a lot, I got pregnant; Ernest got labeled MIA. Being unmarried with a baby on the way was very bad for that time people's sensibilities, and so I traveled to France with my relatives, a childless married couple. I went back to America flat as a board and Mrs. and Mr. Summers had a bouncy baby boy named Hank."

"That's …dad is … Okay I'm officially speechless." Buffy leaned back in her chair, her eyes round as saucers. That was certainly a first, Joyce thought with no small amount of much amusement. Joyce's fingers itched for a camera, so that she could take a picture of Buffy.

 *****Next week –Friday*****

Joyce was, once again, in Buffy's room; her daughter hadn't noticed her presence yet, as Buffy was too absorbed with looking through a photo album and the music's volume was preventing Buffy to hear her approach. That was a bit sloppy of Buffy, Joyce thought as she tilted her head when she recognized Jonatha Brooke's "Inconsolable" playing on the radio.

I never knew what enough was

"Hi, honey. You alright?" Joyce asked; she could see that her voice gave a slight start to her teen daughter.

Until I'd had more than my share

"Sure," Buffy mumbled. Joyce could not remember a balder faced lie and she didn't need her spirit stones to tell her that. Buffy avoided her eyes, she was fidgety, like she wanted nothing more than to tell Joyce what was happening. All that plus Buffy didn't have an appetite today; she just pushed her food around her plate, pretending to eat.

Joyce hummed truthfully, deciding that perhaps if she'd play that she didn't notice Buffy's fidgeting, her daughter would confide in her. "Probably just full from that bite of dinner you barely had. Feel like telling me what's on your mind?"

I let the darkness in and it was then I lost the dare

Suddenly Buffy reached over to turn off the music and turned to her. "Mom, let's go away!" she asked, a hopeful smile on her face.

Joyce blinked at her daughter, confused, thinking she misheard Buffy. "What?"

"Anywhere just for a while. A weekend."

She would love to spend this weekend with her but there was a big exhibit at the gallery. "Honey…"

Buffy now stood up and started to nervously pick up the knick-knacks on her shelves then put them back.

"It'll be great, you and me. A mother and daughter thing. We'll talk about all that embarrassing stuff you and Grandma Kathy are so fond of bringing up."

"Like your grandma having sex or meant your dad?" Joyce could not help but tease her daughter again.

"Mommmmmm."

At her daughter's pleading look, Joyce sobered up; she'd love to spend time away from Sunnydale this weekend. But Joyce had work she could not postpone to go on a trip with Buffy.

"You know the gallery's open on weekends."

"Mom, please?"

Now this was suspicious, very suspicious. Did it have to do with the undead infesting this town, or did it have to do with the prom?

"Isn't the prom tomorrow night? Or Spring Fling, or whatever they're calling it?"

"I guess so."

Hmm, that still did not give her a clue of what the issue was. Though her spirit stones were apparently taking a vacation … or she'd have had the truth of things … well, she'd just have to find out the old fashion way – and employ her spying skills.

After all, as Yov'ana she was a master spy that managed to get into King Macaan's court in both worlds - Dominion and Kirin Taq.

"Nobody asked you?"

"Someone, but…"

"Not the right someone. See? Sometimes I actually do know what you're thinking. Well, I suppose then this isn't the best time for this, but..." Joyce was still planning on what she'd do after the exhibit, or rather she had an assistant now so maybe she could take off for about an hour or two – hopefully that would be enough time for Joyce to go to Sunnydale High and back – perhaps do a bit more thorough inspection of one Rupert Giles. But until then, Joyce stepped toward the closet and swung it open, revealing the white silk gown with straps. It was a simple sleeveless and beautiful style, and Buffy was staring at it.

"I saw you eying it at the store. I figured..." Joyce said and watched as Buffy went to it and ran her fingers over the ivory folds.

"Mom, we can't afford this," Buffy said not looking away from the gown.

Joyce snorted, kids these days. "The way you've been eating?" and she'd rectify it as soon as some of the pile of work bleeds away. "We can afford it."

Buffy was still looking at the shimmering white gown, "It's beautiful," she breathed, enchanted.

"I think you should wear it to the dance."

Buffy whirled away from the dress as if it suddenly sprang a couple of fangs and wanted to snap her up.

"I can't go to the dance!" her daughter exclaimed.

"Says who?" Joyce parried. "Is it written somewhere? You should do what you want. Homecoming, my freshman year at college, I didn't have a date. So I got dressed up and I went anyway."

Never mind that she actually hadn't known the other people studying with her. Joyce at the time was still bodily weaker, still recovering from head trauma, but she was still able to complete her majors so she could have a job and supports herself.

"Was it awful?" Buffy asked with a tone that suggested morbid teenage curiosity, something that Ryushi tended to do on occasion.

"It was awful." Joyce nodded, but then her lips curled up in fond remembrance. "For about an hour."

Buffy perked up curiously, like a kitten. "Then what happened?"

"I met your father." Again, not for the first time, though, at the time when she saw him, she hadn't known what a young engineer was doing at the Art majoring classless prom.

"And he didn't have a date either?"

His date was a woman who graduated in sculpturing.

"He did, and that's a much funnier story that you will never get to hear." Never was a strong word, though Joyce would have to be drunk or drugged on meds to tell any of her children, and possibly alive husband – that she probably would never see ever again, because she had no idea HOW to return, and if she could she would not go without Buffy. "But it was a beautiful night."

It truly was a beautiful night; Joyce danced with Hank and they talked – a lot.

"You had your whole life ahead of you."

Joyce almost missed those wistful tones. "Yeah," she said, but from the corner of her eye, she watched her child carefully.

"That must be nice."

Something was definitely going on tonight; something more serious than a mere prom dance. Something that was probably in connection with the trouble Buffy was getting in lately. The new Principal Snyder – a little man that really should not teach nor had anything to do with children, since he appeared to loathe teens and children and his job – called her almost every week to complain that her daughter was loitering in the library.

 *****Afternoon – next day*****

Joyce was again in Buffy's room, watching her daughter put on her prom gown. Buffy looked beautiful. But that thin silver chain that she had on looked like it would snap at any moment under that silver cross pendant weight.

"You know I think I have a stronger silver chain necklace that that would look better with this simple Celtic cross you are so fond of wearing. I'll be right back," Joyce said, and then left to her room.

As she passed her bedroom where the television was on, she caught the beginning of the disturbing news on the television and rushed back to her daughter's room.

"Buffy, there's something on the news, Willow …"

Buffy practically flew toward the remote and turned the volume up.

The TV was showing a classroom, "gruesome murder happened today at Sunnydale High school grounds," the reporter was saying as the camera showed the bloody prints on the television screen and walls, chairs …on the tables… "In the Audio-Visual classroom, where the murders occurred, the bodies of six teenage students were found by Miss Cordelia Chase, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Chase -" and there the reporter kept droning on about Chases. "And Miss Willow Rosenberg, when they went looking for their missing classmates and discovered them brutally murdered."

Joyce hadn't watched the television, she watched Buffy's face. She saw her daughter grow paler, and then she saw her face close off from emotion. Yov'ana knew that look; she saw it in her reflection in the mirror – before the creation of Jachyra.

Buffy whirled around and ran off. Joyce had an inkling that her little girl would go and check on Willow, and after that … after that, Joyce would drive off to see why her daughter was so distraught … like she'd known that something like this would happen.

 *****Nightfall*****

Joyce was slowly walking among the bookshelves – her spirit stones humming – and though she could not see them, she knew that they were glowing and cloaking her presence completely from any eyes in the Sunnydale High Library. Carefully circling around so that she could listen to the two adults – there were a man and a woman; she didn't know who the woman was, just that she was a member of the faculty. The man was Rupert Giles, the school librarian, and with them were two of the friends Buffy had made, Willow and Xander.

Mr. Giles was saying. "… went to face the Master and …"

"She what? Why didn't she wait for us?" that was Xander. Joyce angled herself between two bookshelves, coming closer.

"Xander, there was a Prophecy that said The Slayer will face the Master and she will die …" that was Mr. Giles's voice again.

"I told you there was something going on with her," Willow's voice rose in a higher pitch. A worried pitch, Joyce noted.

And now she was standing across them, facing Willow, and a pretty dark haired lady that was around Joyce's age.

Xander waved in Mr. Giles's direction "And she knew about this prophecy of yours?" Joyce saw that Mr. Giles gave a curt nod. "Aw, man, what do we do?"

Mr. Giles took down his glasses and started to polish them. Though at this time Joyce started to suspect that 'she' and 'Slayer' that the four kept mentioning were one and the same, and that 'she' was Buffy. "We stay calm, first thing," the librarian said calmly; Joyce watched the man like a hawk at this point.

She did not like the implications this picture was painting of her daughter.

Xander exhaled. "Calm?"

Willow nodded, her eyes darting from one person to the next, bypassing Joyce without seeing her. "I think he's right," Willow said.

Xander shook his head. "I'm sorry; calm may work for Locutus of the Borg here." He waved his arm again, indicating Mr. Giles. "But I'm freaked out, and I intend to stay that way."

"Xander..." Willow started to say, but stopped, unsure what to say. What she wanted to say.

Xander whirled and got into Mr. Giles's face "How could you let her go?" he demanded hotly.

"As the soon-to-be-purple area of my jaw will attest, I did *not* *let* her go!" the man answered. But Joyce frowned; there was resignation coloring his voice. Was this there because he didn't believe he could stop this – prophecy – or resignation that he was too weak to stop Buffy from going?

"Well, how can we help her?" Willow was looking at Mr. Giles with hopeful eyes, wringing her hands nervously.

Ms. Dark hair stepped closer to Willow, putting a calming hand on the teen's shoulder. "Uh, I'm sorry to bring this up, but we also have an apocalypse to worry about?"

Xander glared at the woman. "Do you mind?"

Willow looked at Mr. Giles. "How come she's in the club?" she asked and Joyce really wished that somebody would say the woman's name.

"Hey! Once the Master gets free, the Hellmouth opens, the demons come to party, and everybody dies," the woman, whose name Joyce didn't know, said.

Xander shook his head again. "Uh, uh, I don't care. I'm sorry, I don't. Right now I gotta help Buffy."

"We don't even know where she's gone," Mr. Giles said resigned. It appeared that he gave up on her daughter. Well she brought the girl into this world, and she won't give her up without a fight, like he did.

She turned on her heel and was on the way out to do just that when she heard Xander say,

"No. But I can find out."

Not if Joyce did it first; it was a good thing she brought her spear and collapsible bow with arrows. She walked out of the library, leaving the four behind.

Now, the librarian had said, underground trapped; that meant she would have to turn the aspect of seeking – emotions- her daughter; it was always easier to follow the emotional trail of a relative.

It was always in the blood after all.

She hit the night air, concentrated and closed her eyes, and she could almost see her daughter – she could feel Buffy's emotions – resolution and there was a darker emotion approaching – hunger, malice.

Buffy went with that person, triumph – surprise, and Joyce followed the trail. She followed Buffy down, down into the tunnels. Joyce was sure that there was a virtual maze of those under the town.

Absentmindedly Joyce wondered if those tunnels collapsed some day, would Sunnydale sink, causing a cave in.

One hint of this and her family was out of here.

Or push come to shove, Joyce just might collapse the city foundation herself, right after setting the tunnels on fire.

 *****Tunnels*****

She came into the large cavern; there was a man there, in black leather; he looked ridiculous. He felt cold and dark and he hungered, so much hunger and malice mixed with a miasma of other dark emotions.

That might have been this … Master – yes Joyce heard the capital letter when Mr. Giles discussed this vampire …

"I like your dress…" he tossed over his shoulder looking at … Buffy; Joyce stepped quickly toward her daughter, ignoring the vampire who was forcing his hand through some sort of force field.

Just as the field collapsed with a burst of light, Joyce pulled Buffy out of the water. Buffy wasn't breathing, and Joyce's heart nearly stopped; she scrambled to find the pulse; it was there – but it was very faint and faltering.

Now determined, Joyce quickly gave Buffy five initial rescue breaths; thanks Cetra she knew how to.

Nothing.

No breath and no heartbeat.

NO.

Joyce shifted and placed her hands, one on top of the other, in the middle of her daughter's chest.  
"Push hard, push fast. Come on, baby, breath," she muttered and started to do just that. After thirty pushes, Joyce tilted Buffy's head back and blew air into her daughter's mouth ...and finally, she was relieved when Buffy coughed out water. She leaned back only to notice Xander and Angel rushing toward them.

Buffy was still quietly coughing out water … but she'd be all right now. She moved further away as the boys came closer.

"Buffy."

Buffy coughed but looked up towards the voice of her friend. "Xander?" She started to sit then attempted to stand up.

"Easy. Easy," Xander said while helping Angel steady her.

"The Master?" Buffy asked, looking at them. Joyce nodded to herself; it was time she headed up, or rather, she would just follow Buffy and her two sidekicks.

It was Angel that answered. "He's gone up."

Joyce watched Buffy start to go, and she was pretty sure that Angel was … well a vampire, but one that was on her daughter's side; that was good, having an equal partner. It meant you could fight in pairs. Hmm, perhaps she should pick and sit them both down and then after a long talk, make them train together as a pair of fighters.

"No. You're still weak." Xander said … oh that poor, poor naïve boy. There was difference in being weak and just a bit woozy … Buffy was just that, woozy.

"No. No, I feel strong. I feel different. Let's go!"

Now this part was interesting … different how? Lots of questions Joyce had, but she would see what she could unearth herself...

Before confronting Mr. Rupert Giles – because as helpful as he may have been, and he cared a little – or just in a distant way for her daughter. He gave too much power to a prophecy.

Joyce saw the trio enter the school; she knew where they were going. Buffy was heading to the roof, where Joyce could sense the emotions that were associated with the M-vampire.

Well, meanwhile her daughter and her friends do the main part; Joyce would mop up the stray vampires loitering around school.

She smiled as she neared the undead that were milling about. Before they knew it, they exploded into dust particles. Joyce liked that, she didn't have to hide their bodies.

The only vampire – a jock probably while he was alive, Joyce circled as a cat around the cream.

"Who goes there…?"

She was deliberate in leaving one alive and well, actually well would be a relative term in the next couple of minutes. It was a good thing that her spear had a blade on the end; otherwise this would be more work for her… with a couple of swift sweeping slashes she removed the, now screaming, vampire turned jock's legs below the knee.

Joyce dropped the veil, revealing herself to the now legless vampire.

"Hello," Joyce greeted him, at the safe distance; she wasn't stupid to let an unknown get to her. "I have a couple of questions, now what is the Slayer exactly?"

"Slayer?"

"Yes, slayer."

"Oh…well…"

"Do not stall, because this could get harder on you … or I might grow bored and just start poking at you with the steel end … not the wooden one."

 *****Before Library doors*****

The information Joyce got from that, now dusted, vampire was not exactly good. But she knew some things now; the Slayer was the chosen one to slay vampires, always aided by her watcher.

Joyce had a suspicion that Mr. Giles was this watcher character – and now she saw that the doors were being cleared for Buffy, Angel, and Xander to come in. Veil again firmly in place, Joyce followed them into the library.

On the broken table lay a skeleton … Joyce neared the skeleton, while listening to the conversation her daughter had.

"The vampires?" Mr. Giles asked.

The pretty brunette answered with "gone;" sure they were, Joyce made sure of it.

"The Master?" Angel asked, so perhaps Joyce misjudged him. Granted there were probably still other problems attached to this man –no a vampire. But he did care about Buffy, and her daughter did love him.

"Dead. The Hellmouth is closed. Buffy... Buffy?" Mr. Giles turned to Buffy with a worried frown.

"Oh, sorry. It's just been a really weird day," her daughter said with a smile, her fake smile.

"Yeah! Buffy died, and everything!" Xander exclaimed, excited.

Joyce wanted to smack him, but then he was a young boy…and some boys, or girls, don't think before they speak.

"Wow! Harsh," that was from Willow, bless her.

Mr. Giles turned to Buffy, smiling slightly. "I should have known that wouldn't stop you."

Buffy returned his smile with another one of her fake ones. Something was bothering Joyce's child, by the looks of it.

"Well, what do we do now?"

That was from the woman, who was with Xander and Willow, talking with Mr. Giles before the battle.

Giles cleared his throat, and then ran his bespectacled gaze from one face to the next. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd like to get out of this place. I don't like the library very much anymore."

Xander perked up. "Hey! I hear there's a dance at the Bronze tonight. Could be fun."

The dark haired girl brightened up as well, "Yeah!" she agreed with an excited smile.

Willow however was looking at her daughter, who was quiet, and Joyce could see that she was tired. "Buffy?"

"Sure!" Buffy said, with a wide smile – how could they not notice how fake it was – "We saved the world. I say we party! I mean, I got all pretty."

Though apparently Buffy didn't want to make them see how exhausted she was, Joyce would make sure that when Buffy came home, she'd get plenty of high fiber food and a good long – and not interrupted sleep. She'd also make sure her suitcase was packed, before Hank picked her up tomorrow.

"And what about him?" The woman – faculty member indicated towards the bones. Joyce appraised the skeleton – perhaps they would destroy the remains … it would have been wise, because as Joyce observed usually the bodies of vampires turned to dust.

Buffy looked at the Master. "He's not going anywhere. Loser," she said; this was spoken with some emotion, Joyce observed them all start to go and chatter. Buffy trailed behind the group.

Giles turned toward the woman. "I'm not dancing, though."

"We'll see," came the sly reply. Joyce smirked; it appeared that the hunt on librarian has begun. Interesting.

Willow meanwhile was walking beside Angel. "You can come with us, Angel."

Buffy was still trailing behind, at times peering in Joyce's direction. She cannot help but wonder if Buffy could see something amiss. "I'm hungry," Buffy finally said, and turned back toward her departing friends, who didn't notice her staying a bit behind.

Xander was leaning toward the pretty brunette girl. "So what's the story with the car?"

Yes what about that car, parked in the school hallway; Snyder would not be happy with the damage. Not that Joyce cared about the school principal.

"Oh, that was me, saving the day!" pretty brunette said, practically sparkling. "Well me and Miss Calendar."

And now Joyce had one name – so this was the computer science teacher – Miss Jenny Calendar. She looked like an exotic lady.

Willow however was still talking to Angel, who appeared not to be listening, since he kept glancing back at Buffy. "Get something to drink."

"Is anybody else hungry?" Buffy asked again from behind.

"Well, no, don't do that. Just hang," Willow was saying to Angel. Who now openly looked back at her daughter who was a couple steps behind everybody else.

"I'm really, really hungry."

Finally Angel hung back so that now he was walking in the back with Buffy, while Willow hurries toward Xander and the brunette girl. Joyce was pretty sure the brunette was one of the cheerleaders in this school.

"By the way, I really like your dress."

Joyce could her Buffy answering smile in the words she spoke. "Yeah, yeah. Big hit with everyone." This was a genuine emotion. Her daughter was very much in love.

Well that was eventful; Joyce smiled as she watched them filter out of the library. All of them. Well far be it for Yov'ana not to use the empty library and do what she does best.

Gather information.

She nearly marched right out, dropped her veil and slug and swats the idiot librarian. The first book she opened… the one that had her daughter's emotion imprint swirling around. It was a book about vampires and The Slayer. Vampyr.

In school, accessible to vampires … Or something worse. Information that could mean life or death to any Slayer.

Oh she'd definitely have words with him, but first she'd teach the negligent librarian a lesson.

That and she'd need time to carefully read the large leather bound tome.

Book under her hand, she headed home.

 *****Couple days later*****

Joyce was curled on the couch with that heavy leather tome on her lap – she was waiting for the call from Buffy. Her daughter was in LA, with Hank, for Summer Break.

The title, Vampyr, was misleading – in the tome were written laws of this world's magic and its laws. It also changed, sometimes – she read the chapter and then re-read it, because she did not understand something, and new information popped out.

So she took a different approach. She talked to the book. It did not talk back. But new writings appeared – and she always took care to say "Thank you" - new information about history of the Slayer, Watchers, Shadow Men, and The Guardians.

It was shocking but with her death – Buffy was no longer the Chosen One – but The Guardian, she was still a slayer – had slayer abilities, but her destiny was her own.

Question is, IS Buffy aware of that? Will her watcher inform her that she is retired from her duty or will he take advantage…

Joyce spied the clock; it was nearly time for Buffy to make her call…and for the shrill phone to ring – rang through the otherwise silent room.

"Hey mom." Buffy's voice was calm over the phone. Joyce was immediately worried. "Dad went on a meeting, so he can't talk with you right now." More like, Joyce thought, he won't be back for days. She debated with herself, for a moment if she should go and bring Buffy home. But then she herself would be going on a business trip.

"So how was your day and what are you planning on doing?"

"Me, ahm, dad and I went to the fair, I got to dress up in a Tudor type of gown," Buffy said. Joyce could hear her shifting herself, into a more comfortable position. "And I got gifts for you mom and Willow and Xander."

"What nothing for your History tutor?"

"Mom," came a whine from her daughter. "No, I haven't gotten anything for Angel." Then Joyce heard her mutter something about not knowing what to get him.

"You could get him a necklace with a bell," Joyce suggested, "because he is quiet on his feet."

She was rewarded by a giggle over the phone. "I don't think Angel would like that. Oh, I got myself a figurine, of a phoenix bird and a lady, it looks old and it's made of porcelain. It's up in my room; I can't wait to show it to you!"

She sounded excited, and Joyce was glad. Dying so young, Buffy must still have some trauma. Fortunately, Joyce had ways to help her with that. It'll probably be much healthier than whatever way Buffy would find to cope with what happened to her.

As of now, Joyce figured Buffy was attempting to lose herself in LA. But when she came back, the memories of what happened in this place…Joyce just knew she would need some more help. She also knew that she wouldn't be able to count on Watcher Giles, and her daughter's friends probably wouldn't recognize the trauma Buffy was going through.

"That is great, Buffy," Joyce said into the phone. "So what are you planning now? Go out; connect with your old classmates?"

"Ah no, I will be on the couch reading The Hobbit, maybe listening to music at the same time, then I'll go to bed."

"All right sweetheart, sleep tight. I love you."

"You to mom and love you too."

After a couple of days, Joyce's phone in the "Joyful Murals Gallery" rang, interrupting Joyce's preparations for a trip, that she would have to take; she still needed to inform her daughter of that plan.

"Joyce Summers speaking," she said hurriedly; she had so much to do and so little time to do it.

"Hey, mom, is this a bad time?"

It was Buffy, calling a bit ahead of time, but that was fine, great even. Or late, considering she did not call Joyce yesterday.

"No, no, but why didn't you call yesterday, I thought you said ..." Joyce said.

"Heh, sorry mom," Buffy apologized. "I got book napped by a leather bound book in the attic."

"Must have been some book. And what were you doing...Never mind you were snooping."

"You can say that again, anyway, dad said if I pass my driver's license test he'll get me a car. And I'm doing some babysitting."

"I'm not a baby!" came a boy's yell through the wire.

"That was Jack, he is nine and ..."

"I'm ten!"

The next exclamation from the kid made Joyce laugh, and judging by Buffy's tone of voice, she was teasing this Jack kid. That meant she liked him.

 *****Sunnydale Revello Drive Summers residence*****

Joyce Summers was humming to herself as she was opening boxes of items that came from all over America – she bought them in a flee market, mostly. Or her contacts did. Or Catherine did.

There was a beaded necklace with a rectangular talisman with the emblem of a pomegranate. "Hmm, that'll be a perfect gift for Pat," she said to herself; Pat was living next door, and this emblem was definitely Spanish, or more precisely, the emblem of Catalina of Aragon.

"Oh what a lovely necklace," she breathed then put a thin, no wider than a headband, shaped necklace on her neck. The triangular crystal came at the hollow of a collarbone.

"This I'll definitely keep." She fingered the crystal pendant. She estimated this came from a Norse influenced Native American tribe.

"Now let's see." She rummaged through the box some more, looking for something that she could give Buffy as a reward, if she'd improve at school during this new term.

"Aha," she pulled out a beaded necklace, with white and purple shell beads and at the centre of the necklace was a pendant in the shape of a Gordian knot, probably made from brass, since it looked like gold, but the Pocomtuc tribe didn't use gold for their beadwork.

The ringing of her phone interrupted her thoughts.

"Hello, Summers residence, Joyce speaking," she intoned.

"Mrs. Summers? Here is Harry Blackwood, and as the collector in England Surry, I was wondering if you'd be interested in my collection."

"Mr. Blackwood, it is lovely to hear from you again. It's good that you had called, I found a new fifteenth century snuff box, you still collect those I take it?"

"I do, Mrs. Summers." The man, even over phone, sounded ecstatic. Then there was an intake of breath. "Oh wait a moment, Mrs. Summers, I have a regular customer." At her murmured consent, she heard that he put the phone down "… Mr. Lovegood, how can I help you?"

To be continued.

Broken Sky stuff:

Jachyra - Macaan's secret police.

Macaan – King of the Dominions, he is originally from Kirin Taq, where his family ruled. He became king Dominions, by upspring King Uko, leaving Kirin Taq in his daughter's hands.

Resonants - cannot use spirit stones. Instead, they are able to shift between the worlds of Kirin Taq and the Dominions, and take along anyone they are touching.

According to Resonant theory, Kirin Taq exists between each second of The Dominions, just as The Dominions exists in between the time of Kirin Taq.


End file.
